Now You See Me
by ohtheconspiracy
Summary: Cameron witnesses a horrible crime and finds herself in a battle for survival as she must testify against the killer. What will happen when, just as she and House start something, she is forced into witness protection? Will they get a second try? Hameron
1. Chapter 1

"That'll be $2.50," the clerk working the cash register replied, boredom evident in her tone. It was already 8:59 and her shift should be ending so she was in quite a hurry to get this last customer out of here.

"Ok," Alison Cameron responded, fishing through her change purse for two quarters. She handed the tense cashier her money and took the soda and bag of chips she'd just bought. Cameron had been feeling a little stir crazy in her apartment so she'd decided to go for a walk and soon found herself at this gas station buying a late night snack, much to the annoyance of the clerk.

Cameron took her snack and walked outside, trying to ignore the setting sun. She was feeling anxious tonight and she was not at all in the mood to sit alone in her apartment, waiting for sleep. A fleeting thought popped into her head then, whispering in the back of her mind: _maybe I should call House_.

She shook her head quickly, trying to physically shake the thought away. That would not be a good idea. What would she say to him? 'Oh, sorry for calling all of a sudden, I was just lonely and thought we could chat.'

Definitely not a good idea.

So instead she walked the sidewalk and allowed her mind to wander. Amidst her daydreaming she became aware of another person, not twenty feet ahead of her, pacing back and forth nervously. She stopped walking then, feeling a little unnerved by this man.

He seemed agitated, twitchy even. Something about him made Cameron nervous; something about this man seemed dangerous. She contemplated crossing the road and just continuing on the other side, but she saw a black SUV approaching slowly towards the man and her. She stopped, deciding to wait for it to pass.

That's when it happened. The window of the SUV rolled down and an object appeared, one that both she and the man recognized instantly: a gun.

Before she even knew what was happening the gun went off, a dozen bullets ripping out the barrel and into the man. He flew back, as though surprised, as the bullets riddled his body and he fell to the ground in a heap.

Cameron did the only thing her instincts told her to do—she hit the ground. Hard. The bullets continued from the gun as the car moved forward, inching towards her, and the only thought in her mind was 'don't get hit'. She watched in horror from where she crouched as the gunman casually pulled the gun in his car, passing slowly in front of her.

His eyes locked with hers and she got a good look at him. Dark, jet black hair gelled back. Deep brown eyes that narrowed as he watched her. A slightly bent nose, probably broken before in a fight. A thin mouth that arched up in a disgusting smirk, as though he were proud she'd witnessed what he had done, proud to share his talents with another. She studied him in that instant, memorized his face. And then his window was rolled up and he was speeding away, disappearing down the street.

For a moment she thought she'd imagined the whole horrifying scene, though reality set in quick when she saw the bloody mess a few yards away. The scared little girl was soon replaced by her inner doctor, however, and she sprinted to the man quickly, taking his head into her lap. She checked for a pulse and found a faint one, though a quick glance at the bullet holes told her he probably didn't have long.

With a shaky hand she pulled out her cell phone, quickly dialing 9-1-1.

He was dead long before the ambulance arrived.

-----------

The detective watched the shaking woman through the double mirror as he slowly sipped his coffee. She'd been a witness to a drive-by shooting and he was waiting for his partner to return with the file he needed for this case. Typically, something so common wouldn't have needed his assistance, but that all changed when he discovered who had been shot. It had been a man by the name of Jeremiah Payton, a cop who had been working undercover for the last two months.

He'd been assigned to watch a man who had been on the radar for years, always suspected of being connected to illegal arms dealing. There had just never been any proof. Payton had been sent in to find some evidence to make that connection.

Only now Payton was dead.

He sipped his coffee again, a feeling of pity setting in as he watched the poor girl. She'd just been out for a walk when she'd seen it, and he knew with a sinking feeling that this would change her life forever. If she didn't have anything helpful to contribute, she'd still live with the scars of this event on her subconscious for the rest of her life.

If she did have something helpful, however, it was a whole new ball park. If she could make the connection between their guy and this shooting… Well, her life as she knows it would be over.

He watched as her head jerked towards the door and his partner entered the room, a file in his hands.

"Hello, Ms. Cameron. Or is it Doctor?" he asked politely, taking a seat across from her at the table.

"Doctor," she said hesitantly, ringing her hands. How had she gotten herself into this?

"Ah yes, _Doctor._" he continued, trying to smile comfortingly, "well Dr. Cameron, we have some photographs we'd like you to look at. Do you think you could identify the shooter?" Cameron found herself cringing at the word 'shooter', but she still nodded slowly, remembering the man's face. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget his face.

"Alright then, here we go." He laid the file out neatly in front of her to reveal 6 photographs spaced out equally on a page. Her eyes fell to it as she scanned each picture carefully, comparing it to her mental recollection.

_Picture one- no, the shooter didn't have red hair._

_Two- hmmm… no, his face was a different shape._

It continued like this through each one until her eyes froze on the fifth picture.

Jet black hair.

Deep, arrogant brown eyes.

That thin smirk.

She felt a lump form in her throat and she tried to speak, but no words came. She finally managed to point shakily at the picture, mouthing the words,

"That's him." The policeman leaned forward, pointing at the photo she held.

"Is this the shooter, Doctor?" Cameron nodded slowly, a look of terror creeping in as she saw his face. She felt a chill run through her spine just thinking about him.

The policeman nodded again, seemingly satisfied with her choice.

"Thank you, Doctor. Could you wait here for a moment?" Cameron nodded again as the detective took the folder up and went out the door, reentering the room on the other side of the glass mirror.

"Which picture did she choose?" the detective that had been watching asked.

"She picked him, Mac. She picked Medici." Mac just nodded, a grim smile forming on his face.

Rick Medici.

The untouchable man.

"We got him." the other detective mumbled, and Mac just kept nodding.

"Yeah, we got him. If she testifies." There eyes fell back on the girl in the interrogation room, watching as she looked around nervously, almost as though she knew she was being watched.

"You think she will?" the other detective asked hesitantly.

"I wouldn't if I was her, but who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky this time." Mac pushed forward now, leaving the observation room to head back to Cameron's room. The first detective watched as he walked in and sat down across from her.

Cameron watched the new detective walk in and sit across from her. He offered her his hand which she hesitantly shook.

"Hello, Doctor Cameron. My name is Mac Sullivan." She nodded in acknowledgement before shakily asking,

"Can I go home now?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid. You see, Doctor, the person you identified as the shooter is a man we've been watching for a long time. We've tried to connect him to multiple charges, but he's always managed to worm his way out. Now that you've ID'd him for this shooting, though, we might be able to finally put him in jail where he belongs." Mac seemed quite happy at this news, as though his whole life had been leading up to this.

Cameron smiled weakly, mumbling,

"I'm glad I could help." Mac shook his head, as though he weren't finished.

"You could help even more, Doctor, if you'd testify against him when we take this to court." The look of shock on Cameron's face told him he needed to convince her fast, or she'd definitely refuse.

"You see, may'am, we already have a substantial amount of circumstantial evidence. If we have your testimony, however, we will almost certainly win the case."

Cameron looked around nervously, looking for help in the situation, before mumbling,

"Isn't that… I don't know, dangerous? I mean if he's as bad as you make him out to be…"

"The government will take extra steps to protect you, may'am. You don't have to worry; we won't let anything happen to you." She looked skeptical still, so he decided to play a different angle.

"Besides, if we put him away who knows how many lives we'll be saving? This man is a monster who has taken many lives. As a doctor, don't you think you should do whatever you can to prevent any more loss? You will be a hero, Dr. Cameron."

She sighed in defeat, either too tired to argue or too guilty over the hero bit.

"Fine. I'll testify." she mumbled weakly. Mac grinned brightly, the first happiness he'd felt in a long time.

"Thank you, Doctor Cameron. You're doing the right thing. You won't regret this."

Oh what a lie that would turn out to be.

------------------------------------------------------------------

I know, I know.

I'm ridiculous for starting yet another story, but I really couldn't help it!

This story just popped into my head and before I knew it I had a good majority of it written. ):

I promise I'll try to update all my stories regularly, which I kind of have been doing.

I've just got too much going on in my head.


	2. Chapter 2

The day could not have gone worse.

She'd sat in the court room for hours, the weight of the looks she was getting making her feel as though a tow truck had parked itself on her chest. She could feel the death glares; feel their thoughts shouting at her "I'm going to kill you for this. Testifying is a death sentence. You're going to die!"

It had taken almost an hour for the prosecutor to coax her into the room and she dreaded every moment as she waited to be called to the stand. When the judge said,

"You're next witness," she knew with dread it was her. There were no other witnesses. No one else dared to testify against this man, this mobster. This mobster that, as of ten thirty this morning, had placed a hit on her head.

How had she gotten herself into it? It wasn't her fault she'd been walking down the road at that exact moment when that car had screeched up. She could still remember in detail how the window had rolled down ever so slowly, as though time itself were slowing down for the occasion. She remembered the gun peaking out of the window and, in horror, she remembered looking at the man twenty feet or so from her, and she had known in her heart that he was about to die.

And then the gun started firing, and she hit the deck, not knowing how else to respond. It was lucky she had, too, considering he did not stop firing even after the man was on the ground bleeding. He drove past her and, again, time slowed down. She looked up from where she crouched on the ground and their eyes met, locked in an intense battle as he pulled the gun back into the window. For a fleeting moment she thought he was going to take her out, too, but he just rolled his window up smugly, continuing on his drive.

He didn't have to kill her. He was Rick Medici. No one would ever put the blame on him if they valued their lives, and he was certain this little girl would keep her mouth shut.

He was wrong.

And now she was on the stand, her eyes locked on the ground as she retold the story of the drive-by shooting. Cameron couldn't will herself to look up, because she knew the glares she'd receive from Medici's men. One look at them and she knew she might lose the courage to speak, to defend the poor man lying cold in a morgue somewhere who, without her, would fade away, alone and forgotten. She couldn't allow that to happen. She had to speak for the silent, even if it meant these men would make it their mission to silence her.

After a painful testimony, Cameron had to wait in a separate room with an armed guard until the verdict was decided. She had no idea what she would do when this was over. What could she do? Medici's men wouldn't just let her return to her normal life and pretend this had never happened-- that much was obvious by the armed guard watching her silently.

And then the worst news possible arrived, the news that made Cameron's heart stop for what felt like a lifetime:

The jury was unable to decide, and the case was being moved up to the Supreme Court.

When it would actually be held, however, was unknown.

She would have to testify again.

---------------------------

An armed escort had taken Cameron home, much to her dislike, and it took an hour of there carefully searching her home before they agreed to leave her for the night. She was so thankful for this, considering all she wanted right now was to be alone.

She made her way over to her kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for something to eat. Even though the thought of eating any food right now made her stomach turn, the doctor in her told her that it was not healthy to have only eaten breakfast today. She should really try to eat something.

Her solution came in the form of the bottle of vodka she kept hidden at the back of her freezer. She very rarely pulled it out, only taking the time to drink it when she was really depressed. Thank goodness she had it tonight.

She trudged over to her bedroom, not even bothering to change as she plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She held the bottle to her lips, allowing the burning liquid to slide down her throat, praying it would take the pain away, praying for sleep.

It wasn't until the rather large bottle was halfway empty that she realized sleep was never going to come. Not here, not in this place. She sat up then, a new motivation hitting her. In her fairly drunken state of mind, the place she wanted to go seemed completely rational. Dragging herself off the bed, the bottle still clutched in her hand, she stumbled outside and to her car.

------------

The man watched the very intoxicated girl stumble out into the darkness and to her car. He halfway contemplated stopping her as she fumbled desperately with the keys, but he realized how ridiculous that would be. It would be so much easier for him this way, if she were to get herself into a drunken accident. It was always better when it looked like an accident.

He'd been watching her now for three days, carefully documenting her habits and actions. He knew he needed to memorize them, to know her inside and out. Only then would he be able to accomplish his job.

Only then would he be able to kill her.

It was her fault, really, that his services were required. She should have known better. People do not just testify against men like Medici, which was certainly obvious. People who wished to live a little longer in this world just don't pick fights like that. But she had to go and be a noble, law abiding citizen, which of course resulted in his services being required. Well, that's what she gets for doing something good. Everyone knows that no good deed goes unpunished.

He did enjoy being a hired killer, though. He was one of those few lucky people in the world that found a profession especially suited for them, a profession that made them smile while doing it. He loved the steady build up of the stalking, observing. There was no feeling quite like watching someone relentlessly, memorizing their lives and growing close to them on a spiritual level, even though they never realize it. He enjoyed the power it gave him to plan the act, to prepare, to pull the trigger. It was all so wonderfully refreshing, so deviously beautiful. He relished in the hunt.

But this one was the first that ever made him hesitate. Maybe it was because she was a doctor, or maybe it was because he found her quite attractive. There was just something about this mark that made him hesitate, that made him want to go up to her, take those keys away, and usher her drunken self back into her apartment.

But there was also a part of him, a much larger part, which wanted her to die. And that part kept him silent as he watched her back out of the parking lot at a dangerous speed and race off down the highway.

--------------

House was interrupted from his dreamless state of unconsciousness by a loud, fervent banging on his front door.

"Go away," he shouted from where he slept on his couch, exactly where he had passed out a few hours before.

"House," the sad voice called from the other side. House sat up, instantly recognizing the voice. With an agitated sigh, he managed to pull himself (rather painfully) from the couch and limp slowly to the door. He pulled the door open a crack, staring down at the mess in front of him.

"What do you want?" he asked hesitantly, examining her in the hall light. She looked like a wreck. Her eyes were red and half-lidded in drunkenness, and she still clutched the now mostly empty vodka bottle in her hand. She was slumped a bit against the wall and she could hardly lift her eyes to meet his.

"Is that all I get? No 'hey Cameron, I knew you'd show up in the middle of the night someday'," she slurred, pushing the door open and forcing her way inside. He sighed, closing and locking the door behind her.

"You're drunk," he mumbled, watching as she floated over to his couch.

"You're correct," she said with a giggle, propping her feet on the table and taking a giant swig of her drink, draining the bottle. She tossed it over her shoulder, oblivious to the sound of the glass breaking, and mumbled,

"Hey, you got anything to drink in this place?" she pulled herself up and made her way to the kitchen. House just sighed, about to return to the couch when he heard a cry of pain.

"What did you do?" he asked slowly as he approached to find her hopping on one foot, clutching a bloody foot in her hand. She shot daggers at him,

"I cut my foot on the glass. Who the hell leaves broken glass shards on the ground, House?" she shouted, hopping over to a chair. House just sighed again, looking at the broken glass fragments from the vodka bottle _she_ broke.

"Why aren't you wearing any shoes?" he murmured angrily, kicking the glass to a corner. He couldn't exactly bend over to pick them up, he convinced himself, with him being a cripple and all. It wasn't at all laziness, oh no. Of course not.

"Why are you in my house, House?" she asked, slurring as he moved over to the cabinet to get a first aide kit. He didn't even dignify her question with a response, though it didn't matter considering she had found it quite entertaining to say "house, House" and was now repeating it over and over again.

He walked over to her, prying her hands gently from her hurt foot.

"Let me see," he whispered and she let him pull the foot close to him to examine it. He grimaced slightly at the rather large sliver of glass, now stained bright red that peaked out from within her foot.

"House, House." She replied, giggling at what she considered to be ridiculously clever. Her giggles soon subsided into a whimper as he used his tweezers to carefully remove the glass shard. She pouted as he laid it carefully on the ground, quickly cleaning the blood from her foot and bandaging it.

"All done." He mumbled, the agitation evident in his voice. Why, of all the people she could visit drunk, did she choose him?

And then suddenly her hands were in his hair, on his face, stroking him and pulling him to meet her.

"Thank you," she purred, "for taking care of me." Her eyes were locked on his lips now and he felt himself moving towards her. Then their lips met, a slow and careful kiss, growing more and more frantic by the second as he pulled her from the chair and led her across the room, never once breaking for air. She smiled sleepily, pushing him back over the armrest and onto the couch. He looked up at her, her eyes dark and clouded, and somewhere amidst the hazy lust and alcohol he could see it, much to his own dislike: a sad, scared look in her eyes, at the edge of her consciousness. The real reason she was here.

And as she pulled herself onto the couch, cupping his face with her hands and pulling her lips to his, he knew he couldn't allow it to happen. There was a sad vulnerability in her eyes, and he knew that he didn't want to be something she regretted in the morning. If they were going to do this, he had to do it knowing he would be more than a drunken mistake.

So he pulled away.

He almost smirked to himself when he heard the deep growl come from her, as she was clearly not happy with his refusal. She reached for him again, but he caught her wrists gently in his own hands, lowering them to his lap.

"What's wrong?" he asked hesitantly, studying her face. She sneered angrily at him, hissing,

"I was about to say the same thing." She could certainly be an angry drunk.

"Why did you show up on my doorstep completely wasted, Cameron? What's going on?" He wasn't sure if he actually wanted to know or not, and he was starting to hate himself for stopping her. This was Alison Cameron in front of him, desperate for him. His Alison Cameron. Was he really going to turn her down?

She sighed, pulling herself away from him and sitting on the edge of the couch. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes starting to focus a bit when she mumbled,

"It's a long story." Already she was sounding more sober. House stretched out on his couch, propping his legs up carefully before mumbling,

"I've got time." She sighed, running her hands through her hair again before beginning her story. She had thought she would hold back some details, but one look at House's deep eyes had her spilling out her entire twisted tale. The more she talked the more the drunkenness faded as she told him about the drive-by, and how she'd been forced to testify in court. She told him about the threats and how she didn't know what to do. She told him she was scared.

He just watched her silently, taking in everything she said. He waited until she finished her story before murmuring,

"Well your life sucks right now, huh?" Cameron just looked at him for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter, a smile now replacing her worried frown. He smirked to himself, pleased that his otherwise inappropriate compliment got her to smile again. She wiped her eye happily, a laughter induced tear sliding down her face.

"Thank you," she said as the laughter subsided, "for that. I really needed it." She beamed at him and, unable to resist that enchanting smile, he found a smile of his own soon tugging at his lips. Cameron watched him for a moment, enjoying the comfort between them, before she slowly reached out a hand, taking his in hers. She held it for a moment, gently running her thumb across his hand, her eyes locked on her thumb's small movements. His eyes were locked on her.

After a moment, she slowly lifted her eyes to his, locking instantly. She felt a jolt of electricity run through her as they watched each other and then suddenly they were kissing again, her hands pulling his shirt desperately towards her, trying to eliminate the space between them. His hands roamed over her sides, yanking at her shirt weakly as he pulled her impossibly closer to him.

"You're sober, right?" he breathed as his lips found her throat. She gulped, the intensity of his touch temporarily taking away her ability to speak. She nodded weakly, finally managing to mumble,

"Why?" He pulled himself swiftly from the couch, dragging her with him towards the bedroom. Her hands forced their way under his shirt, quickly peeling it off him. Their lips met once more in a passionate fight for dominance, years of sexual tension finally being released.

"Because I'm not Chase," he said as he pulled her to the bed.

-------------

There was a small ticking noise coming from deep within Alison Cameron's empty apartment, though there was no one there to hear it. The ticking noise filled the rooms, growing faster and faster until it stopped suddenly.

A moment later the building exploded.

--------------

Cameron awoke to the sound of light snoring. She felt an arm around her waist and panicked instantly, having no idea where she was. Slowly, terrified, she turned around to find who she'd spent the night with.

A small sigh of relief escaped her lips as she looked on House's sleeping face. She smiled slightly as the memory of the night before rushed back and she found herself reaching out gently, running her fingers lightly over his hair, as though verifying that he was real, that it had really happened.

She glanced at the clock to see it was already 8:00 in the morning and, after delicately removing his arm from her waist, she tiptoed into his kitchen to make coffee. She glanced at the pile of clothes strewn throughout the apartment, smiling as the memories came back. Her eyes soon fell on her cell phone and she was surprised to see she had ten missed calls. She started to check her voice mail when her phone began to vibrate again, and she quickly answered.

"Hello?"

"Is this Alison Cameron?" the voice asked quickly.

"Err.. Yes, who is calling?" she didn't recognize the number.

"This is William Hart; I'm with the U.S. Marshals. Mayam, I need to know where you are right now. Where are you?" Her heart dropped when she heard the word 'Marshals'.

She knew what they were.  
Witness protection.

"What's going on?" she asked frantically, ignoring his question.

"Listen to me carefully, Dr. Cameron. At approximately eleven last night your house was destroyed in an apparent bombing. We believe this is connected directly to your testifying in the Medici case. For your safety, it's been deemed necessary to enroll you in the witness protection program. Please tell me where you are so an officer can come pick you up."

She felt the oxygen in the room disappear as this man calmly explained the situation to her. The mention of the words 'witness protection program' made her shrivel inside, knowing that it meant she'd be taken away, given a new identity, told to start over.

Her eyes strayed to the bedroom where House still slept soundly.

"Can I tell anyone? That I'm going into the program?" she asked breathlessly, imagining the man sleeping, unaware of the doom she now faced. There was a pause on the line before the man said in a slow, sad voice,

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cameron. You can't. It's for their safety as much as yours." She nodded bitterly, having already predicted he'd say this. Of course this would happen as soon as something finally happened between her and House…

"Alright. Come and get me." She quickly told the man her location and hung up with the promise that he'd come collect her in five minutes. Her eyes once again strayed towards the bedroom and she knew she couldn't just disappear without any word, not after last night. Last night had been… unbelievable. She'd dreamt of that happening dozens of times, but she could never imagine how amazing it would be in real life. And she felt connected to House now, on more than just a physical level. Something had happened between them last night, something that changed everything. And now that she finally had it, finally had him... It was unfair to both her and House and she knew she couldn't vanish, perhaps forever, without so much as a word of goodbye.

She snagged a napkin from the kitchen and, after a quick search, found a pen to write with. She stared at the napkin for what felt like ages, trying to think of the appropriate words. As if there were appropriate words for such an occasion!

Finally, after much thought and the realization that she had less then five minutes, she began her letter.

----------

House awoke to a cold and empty bed. He glanced around the room quickly, wondering if maybe Cameron was lurking on the outskirts of the room, but she was nowhere to be found. He almost smirked to himself, a little surprised that she'd left him in the middle of the night. That's something he would have done. He felt a feeling swell up inside him that almost felt like pride.

House painfully made his way towards his kitchen, making a mental note to get more Vicodin. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest when he realized that Cameron wasn't out in the kitchen, either. Apparently she really had snuck out in the middle of then night.

A napkin pinned to the fridge soon caught his eye, though, and he grabbed it smugly, recognizing Cameron's handwriting.

_House-_

_Thanks for the comfort; _

_I never would have suspected you'd be capable of it._

_I'm so sorry it had to end this way._

_Be good._

_-A Cameron_

He reread it several times, smirking at the first two lines. It was the last two lines, though, that confused them. They were written with such finality, as though he wasn't going to see her at work in a few hours. That got to him. Still, he shook the strange feeling that crept into his chest as he tossed the note in the garbage and turned to get ready for work.

----------------------------------------------

So when drunk!Cameron was chatting with House and he said "You're drunk," I REALLY wanted to make her say "You're sexy!"

You know, a little Family Guy reference and all, but I didn't want to steal it.

But if you want it to say that, too, just pretend it does ;D


	3. Chapter 3

House entered in to a completely silent conference room.  
His eyes flashed from Foreman to Chase, noting their solemn expressions.

"What's the matter? Did I forget your birthday again?" Chase didn't even glance up. House turned his eyes to Foreman, surprised to see that even the eternally uninterested stoic seemed frazzled, a grave expression on his face. Little warning bells shot off in House's head, but he quickly suppressed them as his gaze landed on the empty chair.

"Where's Cameron?" Now Chase looked up at him, his red-rimmed eyes showing he'd been crying.

"House…," he began slowly, grasping at the words to say.

"She's gone." House looked confused, not understanding his meaning. Chase just shook his head, wishing he could make the words untrue.

"What do you mean she's _gone?_" Could she have traded departments? That seemed a little extreme, even if she was having second thoughts about their night together. For that matter, what was he feeling about that night? Well, he certainly wouldn't mind a repeat. Was that it, though? Even House couldn't deny that something had occurred between them. All he knew was he wanted to find her quickly, not so much to talk about it but to have another go. _Maybe in the clinic…_

He started to smile slightly as he planned out another sexual encounter with Cameron, but the smile dropped hard when Foreman looked up. His eyes weren't red-rimmed, but you could still see the pain.

"There was an accident last night." Chase continued, barely able to form words.

"The police say her stove… there was a spark… the whole place blew up."

Chase's voice caught on the last word and he had to lower his head again, unable to meet House's eyes.

House shook his head dumbly, unable to comprehend his words.

"I don't understand." Something couldn't have happened to Cameron last night. Cameron was with him last night… _Though she did sneak off before he woke up. _House's chest tightened as Foreman stared at him, his eyes locked on House.

"She's dead, House." Foreman murmured slowly,  
"Cameron's dead."

He didn't know how he got there, but suddenly House was moving through the hallways, floating towards the stairs. He could vaguely hear Chase calling his name, but he ignored it. He had to know.

Suddenly he was at the base of the stairs, feeling as though he'd just rushed down them. He glanced back briefly to see a panting Chase trying to catch up with him.

"How did you do that?" Chase asked desperately, racing down the stairs after him. If House could think clearly, he would have probably thought about how sad it was Chase couldn't catch a cripple.

House floated swiftly on until he reached Cuddy's office, not even bothering to knock as he forced his way in.

He stopped when her sad eyes met his. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"House, I'm so sorry." was all she could say. He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. _No, that's not proof!_

He found himself praying to a god he didn't even believe in as he rushed out of her office and into a patient's room. _It's just a joke, it's just a joke._

"Um, are you my doctor?" a faceless voice called as he rushed in the room. He made his way over to the TV, quickly changing it from whatever nonsense the faceless patient was watching.

"Hey!" they cried out in protest, but the glare he shot them silenced them rather quickly. He needed to know.

House flipped swiftly through the channels until he found the news and his chest tightened when he saw the picture in the corner.

Her picture. He reached up hesitantly, running a calloused hand over the screen, over her face. There was no denying it was her; he recognized that clear, white skin and those deep green eyes. He closed his eyes as he hovered by the screen, remembering those same eyes looking up at him the night before. How could she be dead?

No, not proof yet. He hadn't heard it. He reached over, jamming the volume button up to a ridiculous level, the room filling with the newscaster's indifferent voice as he read,

"-explosion believed to have been caused by a gas leakage on the stove. It seemed that the owner left the stove on and at some point during the night a spark may have occurred, setting it off. The only resident, a Doctor Alison Cameron, was believed to have been inside when the explosion occurred. Officials say-" he shut the TV off then, unable to hear anymore.

He sat for a moment, just staring at the blank screen.

"Did you know her?" faceless patient asked hesitantly, having witnessed the whole scene. House shot a death glare at them, causing them to shrink back in their pillows.

House left the room without another word.

-----------------------------------

Everyone could sense the change in House.  
It's not like it hadn't hurt everyone else just as fiercely, though they were still unaware about his and Cameron's last night together. He just seemed to be unable to deal with it in a healthy way. It hadn't been a week since Cameron's death and he seemed to almost have a new motivation as he dove furiously into his work, aggressively attacking anyone who tried to make small talk. Foreman and Chase just silently took it, struggling with grief themselves. It had become an unspoken rule that the chair she always sat in, her chair, was off limits. He'd snapped at Chase one day for almost sitting in it. Cuddy tried to talk to House about it once only to have him slam the door in her face.

Wilson managed to organize a funeral of sorts for her, paying for a plot in a prominent graveyard. He'd tried to call her parents but they refused to come down and he absently wondered why that was. His heart sunk when he realized he'd never get the chance to ask Cameron about it. He'd never get the chance to ask her about anything.

The guests filled the caskets with what little possessions they had that reminded them of Cameron. Chase dropped off a note he'd written for her; Foreman put a copy of his article he'd gotten published instead of hers. He and Chase had shared a sad, knowing smile at that as Foreman mumbled,

"I think this would make her laugh." Chase had just nodded, stepping away from the bodiless casket. He glanced around the funeral home, taking in all the guests here. He recognized the majority of the people as coworkers, nurses and doctors he'd seen around the hospital. There were only one or two people here he didn't recognize. It seemed Cameron didn't have much of a life outside of work. He glanced at Cuddy and Wilson, who sat together by the door, quietly talking. House was absent, not to anyone's surprise.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, the priest retelling the life story of a woman he'd never known. He told of her love for people and how she'd dedicated her life to others. Everyone sat in solemn silence as he spoke, all knowing his words were true. No one noticed the man standing in the shade a few yards from the grave, leaning against his cane as he took it all in.

He watched silently as the casket full of memories was lowered into the ground and the mourners left in clumps, some lingering by the headstone for a moment. Chase lingered the longest, his eyes scanning the stone over and over until, like the others, he slumped off to his car.

Only then did he approach hesitantly, standing over the open grave and staring at her stone for a long time, his eyes reading over the inscription. It was fairly simple, just her name and her life span. He couldn't help but marvel at how short it was, how very close the beginning number was to the end. It was too short.

He almost felt a smile tug at his lips as he read the final words of the stone:

_The world was impacted when this good person died._

Words carefully chosen by Wilson, House mused. There was no doubting it's truth, though.  
His world had certainly crumbled with her death.

-------------

It was a strange ritual he'd initiated since her death. He'd dedicate all of his energy to his diagnosis, refusing to talk about anything but the case. Wilson was instantly worried, seeing his friend sink even deeper into himself. No one was allowed to mention Cameron around him, or else he'd snap at them so swiftly you'd think they were going to jump clear out of their skin.

He'd get home around midnight, having spent every moment of his day trying to exhaust his mind. Anything to help him sleep at night he'd try. Some nights he'd go to his piano and just play songs he'd never heard of before, the ivory keys glistening pale in the moonlight under his shaky fingers. The ivory reminded him of Cameron.

Other nights he'd instantly go for the alcohol. It took many bottles to get him into that perfect state of drunkenness, the state he now yearned for: the state where he could see her again. The first few times it was blurry, just her shadow standing over him at the table. As time progressed, however, he'd see her in detail, smiling at him, rolling her eyes at his insensitivity. One night he was even blessed with a full, vivid hallucination in which he relived their last night together in great detail. He remembered how his heart froze the next morning when he reached over in his bed to find it cold and empty.

It was strange that this girl had such an effect on him. Sure, she'd been his fellow for three years, but that didn't mean he needed to self destruct. And sure, they had slept together, but he was Greg House. It wasn't like she was his first.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from seeing her face every time he closed his eyes. Every brunette he passed was her, every laugh he heard was hers. He hated when people called his name as it was always her voice he heard. He would close his eyes and see her, lying on his bed with a look of lust in her eyes, whispering his name. He thought he was going mad.

But life must go on and he knew that he needed to forget this girl. He suppressed the pain with alcohol and Vidicon, masking it with his sarcasm. No one bought it. He tried to convince himself that it didn't matter to him, but that didn't stop him from slinking about his home late at night with a bottle of vodka in one hand, the napkin note in the other.

It was the note that got to him, really.  
He now understood the irony in the finality of it, as though she were predicting her own demise. The minute he'd gotten home the day he found out about her he'd shuffled over to the trash can, digging the note out to study it one more time.  
At the funeral he'd been tempted to fold the little napkin up and put it in her casket, but he couldn't do it.

It was all he had left of her.

-----------------

Alison Cameron sat in her hotel room watching the news feed that had been replaying for the past two weeks. Apparently her death was the most interesting thing that had happened, as they insisted on retelling her explosive demise over and over again. She sighed absentmindedly, flipping the television off and leaning back on the bed.

The police had given them the story of a gas leak to throw off suspicion. They had to keep it under wraps that she was testifying in a major case, otherwise things might get out of hand. They told her it would be better if they claimed she died. It would make the transition for her into the program easier, knowing there would be no one left in her old life wondering why she had suddenly disappeared. The marshal had tried to be gentle when he told her this, but she still couldn't fight the sobs that came.

Everyone thought she was dead and, for all intents and purposes, she was.  
Alison Cameron was dead.

She had two suitcases filled with clothes her new marshal had bought her. He was clearly not used to shopping for women, though, as most of her clothes were two sizes too big and hideous colors. Cameron was waiting now in this rundown hotel for him to return and get her. He was taking her to her new life under the name Alison Carter.

Alison Carter.

She didn't necessarily hate the name; she just hated the thought that no one would ever call her Cameron again. Still, she was thankful to her marshal for letting her keep her first name at least. She didn't think she could handle a completely new name.

She closed her eyes, thinking about everything that had happened. She was sacrificing everything she'd worked for, her entire life, for this case. Was it really worth it? Not that it mattered anymore. It was too late. She was marked for death, and she had to disappear.

House's face flashed before her eyes then as she lay on the bed. She could still feel his hands on her, gently pushing her hair from her face. She saw the look in his eyes as he towered over her, the nonsense he whispered into her ear. Chills ran down her spine as she remembered her last night as Alison Cameron, her last night with House. She wondered if he thought about it now that she was 'dead', or if he was just smugly happy that he'd gotten a taste of her before she died.

The thought of his indifference suddenly made her stomach flip, and she flew off the bed and to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before her lunch emptied itself in the bowl. It wasn't until that moment that she realized with a shudder that her period was late.

----------------

The hit man knew she didn't die in the explosion. It wasn't designed to kill her, considering that he had entered her apartment and found it empty when he set the bomb. He knew she wasn't there when he detonated it, because it wasn't supposed to be an assassination. Not yet.

She was a pretty young doctor, he knew from his observations. He'd watched her, planning out his attack. She saved lives, he knew that. She was the complete opposite of him. He almost found her endearing, if he were capable of such feelings. His years on the job had hardened his heart, though, and each assignment had sucked a portion of his soul out. Still, even in his shell of a man, he felt a slight flutter at the work of this doctor, so he knew he couldn't outright kill her.

So he set the bomb off as a warning.

Don't testify.  
If she doesn't testify, he won't have to kill her.

But silly doctor, she didn't take his warning, oh no. He knew she was in the program now, protected by the government. This meant at some point, when the case reached the Supreme Court, she would come out of hiding and take the stand.

And he would have to take action.  
He'd given her his warning; he'd given her a chance.  
She ignored it, which left him no other choice.

The next time they met, he knew, he would kill her.

-------------------------

So for the, what, two people reading this story?

Yeah for you two, just telling you that the next chapter will skip ahead 4 years.

You've been warned!


	4. Chapter 4

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

House sat at the front of the crowded auditorium, a delightfully devious expression on his face as he twirled his cane between his hands. He scanned the crowd slowly, making mental notes of who flinched away and who held his gaze.

"So it seems that you all want to become one of my three fellows," he boomed, watching as they squirmed under his gaze. This was too much fun.

"Well then, let the games begin."

He knew how ridiculous it was for him to have 30 something doctors all pining for the same spot, but since when did being ridiculous matter? He was Greg House.

He was still somewhat annoyed, though, that he even needed to do this. It wasn't his fault, necessarily. Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman, and Chase might disagree, but that didn't make them right.

He blamed her, really. House would never think her name, not during the day. Not when he was sober. Thoughts of her were saved for late at night, long after the sun had gone down and the tequila bottle came out. Still, there was no doubting that her death had everything to do with his team falling apart.

It had taken House almost three months to finally confess to Wilson that he may have been the last person to see her alive. He remembered the look of shock on his face as he mumbled,

"Wow... you actually slept with her." House had just shot him a sideways glance, wondering why he seemed so amazed.

"Were you doubting my abilities?" he crooned, flopping down on the couch. Wilson just laughed dryly, mumbling,

"No, I remember your hookers. It's just… I never thought you'd actually take that step towards Cameron." Wilson instantly regretted using her name as House tensed up, his eyes lowering to the ground. You weren't allowed to use her name around him.

"Yeah, well I did. Or she did, rather. She took a very drunken step…," and then his voice faded out as he turned his eyes to the window,

"…out my door in the middle of the night and got herself blown up."

That's when Wilson figured it out. The tension House always had at the mention of Cameron, the sudden attitude shift. His explosive fury.

"You feel guilty about it, don't you?" he asked hesitantly, his suspicions confirmed when House turned a shooting glare on him. Wilson just nodded his head, the pieces finally falling into place.

"You feel like you should have stopped her from going home, like you should have kept her there." House turned his eyes back to the window and Wilson just shook his head with a sigh.

"House, you were asleep. You had no idea she was sneaking out, ok? You had no control in that situation." House flew off the couch then, shouting,

"But I could have stopped her! I shouldn't have fallen asleep, I could have prevented it…," Wilson just sighed sadly at his friend, finally seeing the raw guilt in his eyes. This was the closest to House opening up he'd ever seen.

"House…" he began again, but House just ignored him and stormed out of the room.

He never mentioned her again.

That day had changed him, though. His guilt had begun to eat away at him, destroying what little soul he had piece by piece. He started snapping at Foreman and Chase to an extreme, their personal torments becoming one of his few joys in life. It had taken him five years, but he finally managed to push them so far over the edge that Foreman finally got up the nerve to quit, enraging House to such a fury that he fired Chase immediately after. He could still feel the emptiness he felt the day after they left as he stood by the white board, staring at their empty seats.

He'd pushed them away; he pushed the thought of her away. He pushed every relationship he ever had away from him until he felt completely alone and isolated. Completely safe, and completely cold.

He only unlocked his subconscious enough to relax when he got wasted, which had become a far too common occurrence. That was the only time he allowed himself to think about her. Still, he needed to move on with his life. _It has been five years and she's never coming back,_ he assured himself continuously, but that didn't stop him from reaching for that new bottle and pouring another glass.

He convinced Cuddy he could manage on his own, even going so far as to convince a janitor to assist him. She soon saw through his facade, though, and demanded he choose a team, which is how this fun little game started.

And now as he sat and looked at the nervous contestants of his own torturous version of the Weakest Link, House couldn't fight the smirk that danced across his lips.

This was going to be fun.

----------------------------------

In a small country town just east of Kingwood, West Virginia, there sits a single red house filled with the screams of children. The white brick mailbox at the edge of the long, winding driveway is decorated in a single, giant balloon with the words, "Birthday Girl" written across its aluminum surface to lead the party guests to the party.

The townhouse was fairly small, a one story home with a spacious yard that ran for acres in all directions, considering the rural atmosphere of the town. There was a playground with an adjoining swing set a few yards from the house's back patio, the patio's tables covered completely with cupcakes and glasses of apple juice. The yard was filled with dozens of children, all running and giggling as they played in their own little fantasy worlds.

The owner of the house stood in the kitchen, fondly watching the kids as they tackled and wrestled with one another. She sighed, running her hands through her long blonde hair as she prepared to go to work on the overflow of dirty dishes in her sink. While she scrubbed at the never ending pile, her mind began to drift to her old life. It had been five years since she'd been forced to move out here and every once in a while she found herself missing Princeton.

Well, that's a lie.

Every night when the sun was gone and the house fell silent she'd lie in her bed and remember what it was like back at PPTH. The rush of solving the puzzle, narrowing the answers down through logic and reason. She'd think of Foreman's constant boredom or Chase's attempts to woo her. And as the night faded into morning, she'd think about House. Only when he came into her mind was she finally able to relax and fall asleep.

The sobs of a child drew her from her thoughts and she glanced down to see a tiny little girl crying at her feet, tugging gently on her pant leg for attention. Alison instantly entered mommy mode, swooping down to lift the girl into her arms.

"Oh sweetheart, what's the matter?" she cooed as the birthday girl clung to her, wrapping her tiny arms around her neck.

"Jay- Jay- Jay-," she stuttered, her sobs and hiccups interrupting her speech. Alison reached out lovingly, smoothing the girl's strawberry blonde hair from her face to reveal her light green eyes.

"Jayden?" Alison offered, trying to figure out what she was saying. The girl nodded furiously, confirming that she was in fact crying over Jayden. Alison just sighed, not at all surprised.

"What did Jayden do?" she murmured knowingly as she carried the little girl out of the kitchen and onto the patio.

"He stole my puzzle!" The girl screamed, sobbing into Alison's neck. Alison just sighed, running her fingertips gently down the girl's back as she approached the boy in question. Setting the girl down gently, she watched as Jayden quickly tore apart the puzzle he'd assembled and began reassembling it. She couldn't help but be impressed by how quickly the four year old could solve it.

"Jayden," she said sternly, "give Alice her puzzle back." Jayden looked at her for a moment before shaking his head 'no' and mumbling,

"She's not good at it." This made Alice burst into a new set of sobs, much to Alison's annoyance.

"Gregory Jayden Carter! You do not steal things from people! You have to ask if you can borrow it first."

Jayden looked at her suspiciously for a moment and in his young eyes she could see him analyzing what she said, trying to think of what to do. He glanced at Alice for a second before managing to say,

"Can I borrow your puzzle?" Alice's jaw dropped before she shouted a loud,

"NO!" Jayden just looked at her for a second before returning to his puzzle solving. This made her sobs go even louder and Alison wanted to rip her own hair out.

"Jayden! She said no; now give her the puzzle back! Besides, she's the birthday girl." Alison marched over to her son and scooped him into her arms, much to his dislike. He started flailing and attempting to get back to the puzzle as Alice shot him a smug look.

"Thank you, Ms. Carter." she said, her voice full of childish attitude. Alison tried not to roll her eyes as she said,

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

She carried the now very aggravated Jayden over to a bench, sitting him down in her lap as she wrapped her arms around him. He still hadn't entirely forgiven her yet, though, so he refused to return the affection.

"You have to share with others, Jayden," she instructed softly, running her hands through his scraggly hair. She absently noted that it was time for a haircut. He huffed angrily,

"But mommy, she was doing it wrong!" Alison just sighed, resting her forehead on the back of his head. This child was so much like House it frightened her.

"I know, sweetie, but you still have to share. That's just how life is. I'll get you your own puzzle, I promise." Jayden, seeming to accept this, finally turned around and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his face into her neck.

"I'm sorry, mommy. I love you," he replied with so much innocence Alison thought her heart might melt on the spot, and she wrapped her arms around him as she whispered,

"I love you too, baby boy."

-------------------

"Thanks again, Alison," a familiar voice chirped from behind her as she once again went to work on the dirty dishes. She turned around to see her best friend Jan, holding a bag full of birthday gifts in one hand and Alice in the other. Alison just smiled, walking over to her friend.

"Anytime, Jan. It's nice to have a lot of people over sometimes, even if they're all here for a four year old's birthday party." she said with a somewhat forced smile.

"Well maybe if you went out every once in a while you'd have some friends of your own," Jan teased with a wink, readjusting Alice on her hip.

"But seriously, thanks again for letting us have the party here. With all the redecorations going on at our place right now, not to mention Bill's hectic work schedule, that I just doubt we would have ever managed to throw Alice a decent birthday." Alison just waved her hand at her, happy to help a friend.

"Don't even worry about it. Let's just say this is me repaying my debt for everything you've done for me over the years," Alison offered, turning back to the sink. Jan let out a short burst of laughter, remembering how the two of them had grown to be such close friends.

Jan was a nurse at the local 'hospital', if one could even call it that. Their town was so small it didn't need a large hospital, but it was far enough away from the big city that it needed some sort of medical care center. Jan could still remember the day Alison had come in, shaky and unsure, and applied for a job there. Jan had taken an instant liking to the girl and helped get her hired as a nurse and after that they were inseparable.

Jan couldn't help but wonder, though, what Alison was running from when she showed up. No one ever moved out this far into the country willingly. It wasn't exactly a tourist hot spot. After a month into their friendship when Alison informed her that she was pregnant, however, Jan figured she was probably trying to start a new life away from judging stares. Maybe she'd had an affair, who knows? It wasn't Jan's place to pry.

Jan found out she was pregnant not three weeks after Alison told her, which got both girls extremely giddy. They did everything together: there Lamaze classes, baby shopping, name planning. She could remember how fervent Alison was about naming the baby Gregory, and she absently wondered if that was the father's name.

Jan could tell how scared Alison was about doing this on her own, but she promised her that they'd raise their kids together and always be there for each other. Alice was born four weeks after Jayden, and Jan remembered jokingly making Alison promise their kids would get married someday so they could really be family. Of course, looking at the two now you would think they were already married, seeing as they bickered and fought like an old married couple.

Alice began to fidget in her mother's arms, clearly ready to go home and play with her gifts, so Jan gave a wave and mumbled,

"Well, I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow." Alison nodded, waiting until she heard the door close to let out an annoyed sigh. She hated her work.

The Preston County Medical Center was not exactly her ideal place to be. Her marshal Hart had managed to get her an identity with some medical history, but her actual title as 'doctor' was 'too much to ask of him on such short notice' so she had been reduced to a nurse. _It's been five years, _she mused. _We're past the point of "short notice"._

Not that she had anything against nurses, per se. That just wasn't the position she wanted—she was a doctor. She did not go through all those years of medical school to be told to sit behind a desk and file. She couldn't help but smile, though, as she recalled going through House's mail and filing for him. Still, it's not like that's all she did back then. She was a fellow, she spent her days pouring over cases and fighting to find the proper diagnosis. She had worked under one of the greatest diagnosticians in the world, for goodness sakes! She didn't go through all of that just to become an underpaid nurse at some rural hospital in the middle of nowhere.

But there was nothing she could do about the hand she'd been dealt. _Besides,_ she reminded herself for the thousandth time, _if you didn't go through all that you wouldn't have Jayden. _She glanced out the window, watching Jayden play with the few kids that had still not been picked up by their parents.

Alison just smiled as she watched Jayden roared like a dinosaur, chasing the other children through the playground.

He was her world.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Haha. You totally thought the Alice was her kid.

Oh ponks19, I don't know who you are but you know me so well :D  
And I guess I was a bit inaccurate there considering Jayden is four years old, so technically it's a five year jump!  
And woo more readers! Ha it's not so much that I write to get reviews as reviews help me know people are actually reading my story.  
By the way, I've secretly always wanted to do a 'House-has-a-kid' fic, even if they are ridiculously clichéd. Actually, no, scratch that -- that's why I wanted to do it.  
My life mantra is "Embrace the cliché," after all.

(Thank goodness this site is working again!)


	5. Chapter 5

"Nurse, could you pull up the file on a William Smith? He's come back in complaining of a pretty heavy cough," Doctor Follett demanded impatiently as he approached the small nurse's station.

Alison glanced up from her paperwork, fighting a sigh, as she mumbled,

"Yes, doctor." Her stomach lurched as she moved to the file cabinet, rifling through it briefly before removing the appropriate file. She turned only to find the doctor already gone, having returned to the patient's exam room.

She sighed with annoyance before chasing after him, peeking her head into the room. The doctor stood confidently in front of the man she presumed to be William Smith. She gave the man a once over, noting the loose plaid shirt he wore beneath his overalls, the obvious signs of dirt beneath his nails. The diagnostician within her didn't take long to deduce that he was a farmer.

"Here's the file, doctor," she murmured with forced enthusiasm. Follett looked up with fake surprise as he mumbled,

"Ah, yes. Thank you." He grabbed it from her, scanning it quickly. She lingered for a moment in the room while he quickly read his chart out loud.

"William Smith, age 32. Complaining of shortness of breath, continual coughing, and a lack of appetite?" William nodded, agreeing with everything that was read. Alison quickly observed the effort it took for him to nod, catching that slight twitch as he moved. It took her a moment to realize it physically hurt him.

"Call me Billy," he replied with a smile. His smile faded and Alison noticed the light sheen of sweat on his face.

"Are you feeling any aches and pains?" she chimed in suddenly, and for the first time the other two men acknowledged her existence.

"Uhh... yes, may'am," Billy chirped sheepishly, glancing at his doctor. Follett was not at all pleased.

"That will be all, Nurse Carter," he replied in a condescending tone. He turned back to Billy, effectively cutting Alison out of view, as he mumbled,

"Mr. Smith, I still believe that this is nothing more than a common cold. I suggest you take a break from the farm for a few days and get some rest. You'll be good as new in no time!" Worry instantly shot through Alison's mind, as she still had not left the room, and she quickly asked in alarm,

"You're a farmer?!" Once again their eyes fell on her, but she didn't back down from the death glare Follett shot her.

"Obviously, Nurse Carter. Now please, I'm with a patient." Alison shook her head, refusing to budge as she mumbled quickly,

"Farmer's Lung." Follett raised his eyebrows at her incredulously; shocked that she would even attempt a diagnosis.

"I'm sorry?"

"Think about it," she continued, shaking with excitement. This was the first time in far too long that she was able to try a hand at diagnosing. Granted, it wasn't nearly as interesting as what she used to diagnose at PPTH, but it was still something.

"The shortness of breath, the chronic coughing, even the lack of appetite! He's showing symptoms of Farmer's Lung." She turned her excited eyes to Billy,

"Have you been working with any moldy crop equipment recently?" Billy looked surprised by her question for a moment, as he sat silently trying to remember. His eyes lit up after a moment as a memory flashed in his mind.

"Actually, yes. My exporter Jake, he's a good guy I met down in Alabama not three years ago… good kid… Well see Jake came back with his truck after transportin' my goods, see? But while he was goin' down the load got soaked durin' one of them rain storms, and he had a whole batch ruined. He brought it back to me a few months later after havin' not touched it and I had to go move all them ruined plants by myself."

Alison was simply bubbling with enthusiasm at this point, nodding her head furiously in time to his words. Her eyes fell back on Follett, searching for the same look in his eyes, but the look he returned was nothing short of cold and angry.

"Can I speak to you in the hallway, _Nurse_ Carter?" his tone was low and threatening and Alison hesitantly walked into the hallway. Follett turned to Billy, flashing him a reassuring smile and mumbling,

"This will only take a moment." Billy watched with wide, worried eyes as the door shut them out.

Alison turned to an utterly infuriated Follett glaring at her, his teeth visibly baring. She stood their open mouthed, shocked by his outrage. Had she done something wrong?

"May I ask you a question, Nurse Carter?" he didn't wait for permission as he continued with,

"Who is the doctor here?" she had the urge to say 'the both of us', but decided against it considering that Alison Carter did not have the medical degree Alison Cameron had had.

"You are," she murmured in a low, tortured voice.

This place really was Hell on Earth.

Follett nodded intensely, enjoying himself as he demeaned her.

"Who here is authorized to diagnose patients?" his tone was borderline rage and Alison realized that he despised being upstaged, especially by a nurse.

"You are," she said now with annoyance, not in the mood to feed this hapless idiot's ego. If he couldn't diagnose a simple case of Farmer's Lung why was he even a doctor? It almost made her sick.

"That is correct. I get paid the big bucks to do what you just attempted to do," he declared arrogantly. Alison was tempted to point out that there were no real 'big bucks' to be earned in Preston County, but decided she was already on this guy's bad side. Why make it worse?

"So please, go back to your little nurse's station and do your job, not mine." And with that he turned swiftly away and disappeared back into the patient's room. Alison stood there for a moment seething, fighting the urge to go in there and make_ him_ need a doctor.

"Follett giving you trouble?" a friendly voice chimed from behind her. Alison relaxed, turning to see Jan stride down the hall with a stack of files in her hand. She smiled lightly, murmuring,

"Oh, no more than usual." She followed her friend back to the nurse's station and they chatted about hospital gossip for a bit, which certainly helped Alison relax more. She was so thankful she had a friend like Jan here; otherwise she honestly didn't think she'd survive.

She glanced up to see Billy exit the exam room and Follett walk haughtily back to the nurse's station, dropping the file casually on the desk. He moved swiftly on, not ever acknowledging her as he went. Jan reached over to the file, opening and scanning it briefly.

"What's the diagnosis?" Alison asked from her seat, feeling almost nervous as she watched Jan's bored expression. Jan glanced up at her curiously before mumbling,

"Farmer's Lung."

Alison let out a bitter laugh.

She hated this place.

----------------------------------

House sat in his office, closing his eyes briefly as he prepared himself for another day of work. It was going to be a long day, what with his thirty applicants trailing him as he ranted and raved in his ever witty style.

He very much enjoyed watching them squirm and struggle, constantly attempting to prove themselves to him. It made the games so much more interesting. He mentally went over a few of his applicants, already knowing in his mind the ones he intended to fire.

Not that it mattered, of course. He'd hold onto every single one of them for as long as he could, squeezing out as much of this merriment possible before someone finally stepped in and said, "Ok, that's enough."

No one had yet, though, and so the torture would most certainly continue. He thought about the Russian minx, or about the two twins. They're nice to look at, but just not up to snuff. They weren't exactly on a 'House's protégé' sort of level. They weren't Chase, or Foreman.

Or Cameron.

_No, not yet. _He glanced at the clock on his computer, sighing when he saw he still had hours until his work day ended and he could slink off to that alcohol induced haze he now craved. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced his mind back to his applicants. It was far too early in the morning to be thinking about her.

Still, his mind found a way to bring her into his thoughts, as it had always managed to do. He found himself thinking about that pretty, blunt brunette with the fascinating eyes. #13, he believed. Sometimes when she wasn't looking, he would squint ever so slightly when he looked at her, and she would look so much like Cameron.

He already knew she would be hired. He needed it; he needed to find a replacement for her. He couldn't just idly hang onto these drunken hallucinations or these whispered thoughts. What was even better was this girl was physically like Cameron, but her personality couldn't be any more different.

This girl was blunt, brash, and mysterious. Completely different from his Cameron, who was more likely to blush and say something disgustingly kind than do anything blunt or remotely brash. Wait, why did he consider her _his_ Cameron? Boy, did he need a drink.

He glanced once more at the clock, willing it to go faster. He sat impatiently, twiddling his thumbs nervously before finally giving up and storming out of the room with six minutes to spare before his shift started.

Ah well, screw it.

It was a Friday, anyway.

No one would notice if he disappeared into the clinic for a few hours, except, you know, the thirty or so applicants waiting anxiously for him in the auditorium.

----------------------------------

Alison glanced at her watch fretfully; her thoughts a thousand miles away as she drove down the country road.

"Mommy?" a little voice from the backseat brought her back to reality as she glanced up with a smile into the rearview mirror.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she cooed.

"When's Uncle Hart coming?" he asked with bright eyes, turning his head slightly as he asked. Alison frowned vaguely, as her marshal Hart was exactly where her mind had been moments before.

Every few months Hart would drive down from New Jersey to check up on the two of them and discuss with her how they've adjusted to their new lives. Today was the day he'd been scheduled to come visit, but he hadn't shown up yet. This was making Alison feel a bit uneasy.

"I'm not sure, baby. He should have been here hours ago but I still haven't gotten his call," she glanced down at her cell phone to reiterate her point, but sighed in annoyance. No signal.

Typical.

"I'll call him when we get home and then we'll see where he is, ok?" Jayden nodded enthusiastically, mumbling,

"'K. 'Cause I miss him." Alison's smile died a bit at this and she looked away, no longer able to meet her son's eyes. His 'uncle' Hart was the closest thing to a family Jayden knew. He had no idea what circumstances surrounded his life and even his creation. The only thing he had from his dad was an old photograph Alison had snagged and those deep, endless blue eyes of his.

Alison arrived home to find her phone ringing. She rushed for it hastily, snatching it up a second before the caller hung up.

"Alison Carter." Five years of practice had made it fall so easily off her tongue.

"Alison? It's Hart." She nodded passively, recognizing the man's voice.

"Hey, marshal. Are you almost here?" His aggravated sigh hinted that he had some bad news.

"Alison, we've got a problem."

-------------------

"I dun' wanna visit uncle Hart," Jayden pouted as they sped down the interstate heading towards Princeton. Her heart fluttered as familiar buildings and sights came into view and her mind couldn't help but drift back to Princeton-Plainsboro, back to her old life.

"I know, sweetheart," Alison cooed soothingly, "but we have to do this." Hart had called to inform her that he had a family emergency that forced him to stay in New Jersey. He had asked if she could drive up to him, which she had reluctantly agreed to. She knew that meant driving through Princeton, revisiting her old life.

There was no denying how painful this was for her as she scanned the now completely familiar city, watching the sidewalks she once walked and the stores she once visited fly by. It almost saddened her to see that life had gone on after her death, as foolish as that may be. Of course an entire city wouldn't stop functioning because some random person got themselves blown up.

As she crept down a particularly memorable avenue, she couldn't fight the shudder as she slowly drove down that hauntingly familiar street where this had all begun. Her eyes found their way back to that sidewalk, back to the spot where the man had died in her arms. For a brief second she almost thought she saw a blood stain still set in the cement, but she shook the thought away. She was just seeing ghosts. _Fitting,_ she mused, _considering I am one._

The sound of electronic noises brought her eyes from the haunting scene to her rearview mirror, as she watched with a small smile as Jayden played with his game boy, clearly scoring a lot of points. She smiled to herself, her heart warming at the familiar sight of deep, icy blue eyes focused on a game boy screen. And at once she thought about House.

She knew PPTH was only a few blocks away. If she turned right at this next stop light she'd be there. She could drive casually back into her old parking spot, walk in through the entrance and straight up to diagnostics. She could swing open that familiar glass door and stare into those eyes; she could smile and say,

"Hey. Guess what? I'm alive."

But she didn't turn right. She kept driving past, continuing on her set path to Hart's home.

It was better this way.

As the miles stretched on and she left Princeton, she felt both relief and depression at once. It was as though a hundred pound weight had been removed, only to be replaced by a thousand pound one. The pain of having been there without having any contact with her old colleagues burned her heart, creating a hole that she knew only one person could fill. She also knew he'd never get that chance.

Her phone rang suddenly, yanking her from her self-pity and she answered it hastily.

"What?" she answered, not at all intending to be so sharp.

"Hey, are you almost here?" Hart asked, clearly not put off by her tone.

"Uh yeah, sorry about that. We just passed Princeton." She got quiet as she talked, watching in her side mirrors as her former home faded into the background. Hart was silent for a moment before mumbling,

"Are you ok?" She nodded, though it wasn't like he could see it.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she murmured unconvincingly.

"I can tell when you're lying, Alison." He chirped.

"I'm not lying," she lied.

"Mommy!" Jayden cried out, drawing her eyes to her rearview mirror.

"Hmm?" she asked.

"I didn't want for you to have to go through their alone..." Hart continued.

"I got a high score! Look, look," Jayden continued, holding up his game boy for her to see.

"You sure did sweetheart," she said with slight annoyance, finding all of these conversations difficult to maintain at once while driving.

"Did you just call me sweetheart?" Hart asked through the phone. Alison let out a short laugh.

"No, I was talking to-"

"Mommy, look! I even beat Alice's score,"

"That's nice, Jay-"

"Who were you talking to, Alison?"

"I was talking to-"

"Mommy!" Alison, completely frustrated, yanked her head around and half-cried,

"What?" She saw the look of horror on Jayden's face as he pointed in front of her, and Alison had just enough time to see the flash of silver metal before the truck slammed into them.

----------------------------------------------------

Muhahaha cliffhanger.

And so you all should be incredibly proud of me, considering I actually looked up an illness and it's symptoms for this chapter (which I am typically far too lazy to do).


	6. Chapter 6

All she could hear was a deep breathing.

In and out, in and out, the sound was filling her ears. Who was breathing so loudly?

Determined to find the source, she desperately struggled to open her eyes, but they refused to budge. The lids were so heavy and she could feel sleep seeping in, resolute to reclaim her. But no, she couldn't allow that—she needed to find the source of that sound.

There was a tugging at her subconscious, telling her she _had_ to figure out who was breathing so heavily. She took a deep breath, willing her eyes to open, but paused as she noticed the difference. The breathing sound changed.

So then wait, she was the one breathing?  
Well then why was her mind screaming at her to figure that out, or was there something else it wanted her to realize?

Something was wrong. She tried to move only to be met with a nauseating wave of pain that ran throughout her body, hitting every cell with a buzz of torment. She started to panic, terrified of where she was and what had happened.

_Ok, Calm down, Alison. Focus, try to move something._

Slowly, methodically, she checked her body, first moving her fingers, than wrists, arms…

She could feel the aches and pains every time she attempted to move, but relief washed over her when her body obeyed. After a time-consuming and painful body checkup, she was somewhat thankful to find that only her arm appeared to be broken and that someone had already put a cast on it.

Everything else just hurt like hell.

Now she just needed to figure out what had happened. Again, she desperately fought her eyelids, demanding them to lift. After what felt like a lifetime of struggling, her eyes slowly complied and she was hit with a bright, unfocused blast of light.

Blinking a few times, she waited for her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. She gasped slightly, recognizing the familiar walls around her, the generic wallpaper and familiar glass door, and the soft hum of the machines around her.

She was in a hospital room.

Groaning, she allowed her eyes to travel down her body sluggishly.

She didn't look too hot.

Her eyes trailed over the multiple cuts and bruises that dotted her arms and she could now distinguish the hulking cast on her right arm. She couldn't quite see her legs, but the aches in them told her they probably didn't look much better.

Something bad must have happened, she knew. She just couldn't remember what.

Her thoughts were interrupted as her glass door whooshed open and a nurse slipped in, making her way to Alison's side.

"Ah, glad to see you're awake," she chirped in a tired voice, checking her stats.

"Where am I?" Alison rasped, her throat feeling as though she hadn't had water in years. The nurse forced a smile, a frenzied look on her face.

"You're at the University Medical Center in Princeton, sweetheart," she chimed in an exasperated voice. Alison's eyes scanned the area from where she was, suddenly noticing that there were three other patients resting on cots in her room and that people were running frantically about outside her window. Alison frowned, confused. Why was she in Princeton?

"What happened?" she rasped again. The nurse sighed, moving to check Alison's IV and to shoot a glance out the window at the rush of bodies on gurneys.

"There was a pretty massive pile up on the interstate, fifteen or so cars. Apparently you were right at the center of it." The nurse brought out another forced smile, nodding to herself as she finished checking up on her patient.

"You're lucky to be alive." Alison closed her eyes, trying to remember. She could vaguely see herself behind the wheel of her car, talking to Hart on the phone. She was heading to Princeton, something about a family emergency. Jayden was showing her his game boy—

Her eyes flew open as it hit her.

_**Jayden!**_

"My son!" she screamed suddenly, her eyes flying open. The nurse jumped back, surprised at the bruised woman's sudden outburst.

"What?" she asked shakily, trying to regain her composure. Alison eyed her frantically, pulling herself up into a sitting position. This was a very bad idea, she soon realized, as she cringed as the searing shots of pain raced through her body.

"My son," she said through clenched teeth, fighting the shockwave of pain, "My son was in the car with me! Where is he? Where's Jayden?" Her eyes searched the nurse's desperately, but the nurse only looked shocked and horrified.

"I… I don't…,"

"Where is my son!? He's only four, I can't leave him alone!" Alison was screaming now, pulling herself out of the bed. She yanked weakly at her IV, managing to tear it from her arm as a trail of blood followed it.

"Mayam, you need to calm down-,"

"Jayden," Alison cried out for him, an overwhelming feeling of lightheadedness hitting her. He had to be here. He had to be here in some other hospital room waiting for her.  
She just needed to find him, that's all.

"Jayden!" She didn't notice herself swaying as she tried to make it to the door; she didn't feel the hands pulling her back or the words shouted at her. All she could think about was finding Jayden, finding her baby.

Suddenly everything was rushing around her and she felt like she was floating, drifting away. Someone was shouting something, shouting at her, perhaps. She floated on through the whirling lights, Jayden's name racing through her head. She had to find him.

And then the floating stopped as she hit something hard, the light sharply turning black.

She couldn't stop herself from disappearing into the darkness.

-----------------------

House sat on Wilson's couch daydreaming as he hid from Cuddy. Wilson just ignored him, reading silently through his files. There was a relaxed aura around them, or there was at least until the peaceful stillness of the room was ripped apart by House's pager blaring. He glanced at it loathsomely, not at all in the mood to do actual work today.

"What's that?" Wilson asked, not taking his eyes off his file. House just sighed, pulling himself slowly from the couch.

"Apparently the ER is swamped. Stupid people getting into car accidents when I'm trying to hide..."

"How inconsiderate of them," Wilson mumbled as House disappeared through the door.

--------------------------

"Miss…, miss can you hear me?" a voice called through the darkness as Alison once again fought for her eyes to open. After a brief struggle, she found herself looking up into the worried face of the nurse from earlier.

"Oh thank goodness. Good to see you again," the nurse murmured with a smile of relief. Alison attempted a smile, though she figured it looked more like a grimace.

"What happened?" she asked for the second time that day.

"You fainted after jumping up suddenly. You just ripped out your IV and started screaming about your son..," she saw the look of panicked realization cross Alison's face and she jumped to hold the woman down, "Hold on now, girlie, let me finish. While you were unconscious I did a little snooping of all the victims recovered from the crash site...," she paused, drawing it out. Alison looked at her desperately, terrified at what she was going to say.

"I think I know where your son is." Alison let out a sharp cry, her tension fading into a feeling of ecstasy at the words. _She knows where Jayden is_.

"You do?!" she cried happily, a tear escaping her eye. The nurse nodded, pulling out a file in her hand.

"I got a list of all the unidentified victims. A boy looking to be about four was taken to a different hospital and is being treated there. Does your son have dark brown hair and blue eyes?" Alison let out another cry, nodding her head enthusiastically. The nurse smiled, relieved.

"How is he?" Alison breathed nervously. The nurse just laughed, placing a reassuring hand on Alison's.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. He's just fine. Surprisingly he got out with nothing more than some scrapes and bruises. Your car was mainly hit from the front, so you took the most damage yourself." Alison sighed happily, glad that she had taken the brunt of the attack.

Her baby was ok.

"When can I see him?" she asked, sitting up. It hurt a lot less than it had before and she glanced next to her, noting the morphine being pumped into her system. No wonder she felt so giddy.

"Soon, girlie, in a bit. We just want to observe you for a while to make sure you're alright." Alison shook her head anxiously, determined to go see her son. She once again noticed the frantic shuffling outside her door as other victims from the pile up were rushed about.

"Listen, I'm completely ok. I feel great," she lied, trying not to cringe as a massive bruise on her arm swiped the guardrail. "Besides, other people clearly need this bed more than I do, so please. Just discharge me, ok? I need to go find my son." The nurse watched her, unsure of what to do, but the firm look on Alison's face told her there really was no option.

"Fine. Just give me a minute to get the paper work so you and your son can stop being 'unidentified' and then you can go see him." Alison nodded her head vigorously, happy to be getting out of here.

"Great!" she was watching the nurse turn to leave when a thought hit her.

"Wait! Um, which hospital did they send Jayden to?" The nurse glanced back down at her sheet.

"Mmmm… Oh! They sent him to that teaching hospital a few miles from here. Princeton-Plainsboro, I believe." She turned and left, missing the jaw-drop expression on Alison's face.

This was not a good day.

-----------

Hart felt his pulse racing as he rushed into the busy teaching hospital, scanning the people clustered throughout the lobby.

This was all his fault.

He really shouldn't have asked her to drive up here alone just because his mother was in the hospital. Her sudden fainting spell hadn't been nearly as serious as they'd thought and now he regretted everything.

He had known it would be painful for her to be in Princeton again, but he had never thought that she could end up in an accident. He glanced over the horde of people to the television mounted on the wall as the news stations went over the details of the pileup. He cringed when he saw the scroll at the bottom:

Five confirmed dead.

If he'd known things would turn out this badly... He rushed to the nurse's station, calling out 'hello, hello?' over and over again until finally someone paid him some attention.

"Can I help you?" the exhausted woman asked, rushing to and fro behind the desk. Hart followed her movements, quickly explaining,

"Yes, um…, I'm looking for an Alison Carter and a Jayden Carter. I- I think they were in the pile-up that happened earlier." His eyes scanned the room and he once again cringed at the memory. He'd been talking to Alison on the phone when he'd heard a terrified scream, followed by screeching and the sounds of metal crashing and tearing to shreds. And then the line went dead.

That dial tone was probably the most horrifying sound he'd ever heard.

The woman shot him a pathetic look, not at all in the mood to deal with yet another panicked family member.

"Sir, if you'll have a seat we will inform you when a list of all the identified victims is posted." She turned and walked from behind the nurse's station, heading down a somewhat empty hallway.

Not satisfied with this answer, Hart trailed her urgently, both his job and his conscience depending on finding these two.

"Listen, you don't understand. Her name is Alison Carter and I have to find her and her son." The woman just nodded distractedly, mumbling the same thing she'd said to dozens of people that day,

"I understand you're worried, sir. Please, just go sit in the lobby and-,"

"You don't understand!" Hart roared, causing the woman to jump and drop her files. He instantly regretted this and swooped down to help her pick them up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Look, can I speak to the person in charge here?" The woman gave him an incredulous look before mumbling,

"That would be me. My name is Doctor Lisa Cuddy and I'm the Dean of Medicine here."  
_Great, _Hart thought bitterly to himself._ I just screamed at the only person that can help me.  
_ Hesitantly, he pulled his badge from his jacket pocket and watched the woman's eyes light up in surprise.

"I'm a U.S. Marshal and I **need** to find these people, alright?" His tone left no room for argument.

Doctor Cuddy nodded slowly, her eyes still on the badge.

"If you find an Alison Carter, call this number." He quickly scribbled his cell phone number down and passed it to her and stood, watching as she disappeared down the hallway.

He sighed sadly, running his hands through his hair.

Why didn't he just drive down to see her?

----------------

_Interesting._

That's all House could think as he observed the scene before him from where he stood half-hidden by a column.

_Very interesting._

House had been lurking on the outskirts of the ER all morning, avoiding patients and avoiding Cuddy. He'd seen her coming towards him and had quickly hidden himself just in time to see the other man approach.  
He'd seen the U.S. Marshal's exasperated attempts to find some girl and, being the genius that he is, it didn't take much to put two and two together.  
Someone from the witness protection program might be at this hospital…

"Very interesting." he murmured aloud, a devious smile forming on his lips as he began mentally planning a way to find this girl.

He always did love a good mystery.

-------------------------------------------------

Uh oh.  
Jayden, House, and soon Cameron all under the same roof.

This can't be good.

(:


	7. Chapter 7

The taxi has been sitting there, parked in front of the entrance for what could have passed for centuries, idly waiting for the terrified occupant to get out. She'd been frozen there with her hand poised on the handle, eyes locked on the grand, looming doors that seemed to grow larger by the second. The agitated driver tapped his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, his eyes on her in the rear view mirror. She didn't notice, of course, as she just couldn't seem to take her eyes off the majestic hospital.

How hard is it to just push open the door? It really shouldn't have been this hard. What was she so afraid of? Jayden was in there. Her baby boy was in there, waiting for her to come in and get him. He might even be afraid, terrified as he wondered where she was. She should be rushing in, not sitting and staring! _Move, Alison. Move. _She wouldn't budge.

"Hey lady," the gruff voice of the cabbie called, cutting into her thoughts.

"You gettin' out?" After a flustered pause, Alison finally managed to pull herself from her stupor and step out of the taxi. She could almost hear her step as it reverberated through the ground, no doubt sending shockwaves through the hospital. She could just imagine all the doctors, her old colleagues, looking towards the entrance instinctively, expectantly, even. What would she do if someone recognized her? What would Hart do?

She reached up to the worn old Jackals baseball cap and pair of sunglasses she'd managed to steal from the medical center's lost and found. Tugging her ponytail through the back, she once again did a self-check over her looks.

The massive sunglasses and low-billed hat covered the majority of her face, while the blonde hair would definitely throw someone off her trail. She'd also managed to snag an old jacket on her way out of the center that she could use to cover her now torn and bloody top, and she found herself once again pulling the sleeves subconsciously over her arms, making sure all her bruises were covered.

She knew for a fact, though, that she had busted her lip up pretty badly during the accident, so she knew that she really needed to hide the cast and cuts. It would be beyond horrible if someone zeroed in on her injuries and assumed that she was some abused spouse or something. If that happened, it wouldn't take long before the wrong questions started being asked. She just needed to get in there, get Jayden, and get out. She squeezed her fists nervously, letting out a shaky breath.

How was it going to feel being here again, seeing her old life? What if she saw House? She shook that thought away quickly, feeling her heart race jump.

She could not see House.

That would just be…. Unfortunate.

It would be too difficult for her to see the man who had helped create Jayden, the man she couldn't deny she was still pitifully in love with, again. She couldn't handle seeing him once more only to be taken from him yet again. It would just be too much. Going this long without him, without his touch, was heart breaking. It was slowly eating her up inside, driving her to the brink of insanity.

But she knew, she just knew, that if she had the chance to see him once more, to touch him, and then be forced to leave him again…

There was just no way that she would survive that. Her heart could only handle so much, and just being here was almost enough to push her over the edge.

And that is why she had to go in there right now.

Right now.

…..Now.

Why wasn't she moving?

She just remained there a few feet from the entrance, her eyes fixated on that oh-so familiar building. It really hadn't changed at all. Those familiar, sturdy walls surrounded by the gentle cascade of snow. She could see people bustling around through the windows, going about their day utterly unaware of her or of her sad little tale.  
Everything was exactly the same, exactly how she'd imagined it thousands of times before.  
The world really had moved on without Alison Cameron.

Letting out one slow, reassuring sigh, Alison made her way into the hospital.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Paging me during Judge Judy is not the best way to win my affections," House sniped as he limped towards his desperate would-be fellows. Their newest patient, a (future?) astronaut, had somehow managed to escape her room and barricade herself in a conference room. The desperate fellows gave him exasperated looks before one chimed in with,

"She had another episode of Synesthesia. It set off a psychotic attack and now she ran in there and must have jammed something in the handles." House just sighed with annoyance, mumbling,

"So you call me: the guy with one good leg and zero leverage."  
Sometimes these kids were just idiots.

"Uh, we break that door down security shows up and her name goes in a file." House just sighed, running his hand over his head with annoyance. This is what he gets for choosing a more interesting case, and really, what could be more interesting then diagnosing a patient without leaving a paper trail?

"Luckily, violence is not the last resort. Extortion is. So go ahead," he murmured, motioning towards the door.

"Extort her." The fellows looked at him skeptically before one slowly approached the door.

"If you don't open this door we're gonna break it down." House just smirked, leaning in to mumble,

"Clever. Appeal to her deep concern for hospital property. Let's see how that works." The man rolled his eyes, trying again with,

"If you don't open this door, you're going to die." The patient, however, just shouted back a loud 'go away', repositioning herself against the door. House felt the edge of his lip lift a bit at the idiocy of it all, mumbling,

"You seem to be getting to her." The fellow sighed angrily, turning to House.

"She doesn't care if she dies." House raised an eyebrow curiously, mumbling,

"You think she wants to die?" The man shook his head a bit, saying,

"No, but I think she only wants to live under certain circumstances." This seemed to spark an idea as the fellow leaned towards the door, shouting,

"Open up or I blab your secret to everyone." The patient just scoffed, shouting back,

"You don't know anything!" House, finally getting tired of the game, joined in with a cheery,

"I do."

Someone else may have said something after that, though the words would have certainly fallen on deaf ears, as House's attention was no longer on the patient's shenanigans, but on the hospital entrance.

He approached the edge of the balcony quickly, peering down into the crowd like a hawk. There was nothing too spectacular down there, just random nurses and patients milling about. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His eyes weren't on them, however.  
They were on _her._

A hauntingly familiar figure had just shoved her way hurriedly into the hospital, a tattered baseball cap and bug-like sunglasses engulfing her face and hiding all features. Even with that, though, he could sense it. He could sense the familiarity of her.  
He could see it in the way she walked, the way she marched down the hallway as though she'd done so hundreds of times before.

He could see it in the familiar tip of her nose, in the way she gently chewed on her bottom lip, her teeth just barely grazing the skin.

He felt a lump forming in his throat as he watched her retreating figure disappear from view, her hips swaying unconsciously.

It was Cameron.

He shook his head almost immediately after the thought entered his mind, smothering it beneath his beloved logic and reason.  
Cameron was dead.

She had been for five years now, despite what his daily alcohol-induced hallucinations told him. He knew he shouldn't let that glimmer of hope enter his mind, especially not now. I mean really, that girl was clearly not Cameron. She was blonde, for goodness sakes, and even that supposedly familiar figure seemed different. The woman he'd seen was fuller, with more definitive feminine curves. Close, but not quite her. It had just been a trick of the eye.

Shaking his head, he turned back to his fellows to find they had managed to coerce the patient from the room. He sighed, heading back to them.

It had definitely all been a trick of the eye.

----------------------------------------------

Alison rushed quickly towards the Emergency Room's front desk, feeling an incredible twinge of nostalgia as she passed easily through the grounds. So far she had managed to go undetected and she saw, with some sadness, that she did not recognize the majority of the nurses. Things were clearly not the same.

As she approached the desk, she silently begged that the attending nurse be someone new, as well. Her silent plea was answered, luckily, as she found her way to a plump and disturbingly cheerful woman. The woman's merry smile, however, dimmed as she caught sight of Alison and gave her a quick once-over, clearly misinterpreting the visible bruises and busted lip. Alison felt her stomach tighten, and she found herself hoping the woman wouldn't ask her if she'd been raped.

Tugging her sleeves down over her wrists subconsciously, Alison quickly murmured,

"Hi, um. I was in the pile up earlier today and my son was taken to this hospital. I'm trying to find him." Her words came out in such a fast, awkward stream that she feared for an instant that the woman wouldn't understand, but she just smiled again and nodded, practically shouting in an overtly joyful voice,

"Of course! Could you describe your son?"

The nurse proceeded to check the hospitals records and base them on Alison's description of Jayden, quickly finding the unidentified boy that matched him.

After a quick instruction as to where she could find him (not that Alison needed any help navigating), she was once more off on her search for her missing baby.

The nurse watched her leave with a perceptive eye before slowly picking up the phone and dialing.

"Hello, Dr. Cuddy? Yes well, that woman you… yes, Alison Carter… well she just came here asking for her son…"

---------------------------------------------------------

Sailing easily through the familiar hallway, Alison soon found herself outside the hospital room the lady had said was Jayden's. She hesitated for a moment, not willing to glance in to see just yet. What if it wasn't Jayden? She didn't think she could handle it if it wasn't.

Hesitating for only a moment longer, Alison pushed her way close enough to see in the window and she couldn't help but let out a loud squeal at the sight of the tiny body bundled up on the hospital bed. She stared for a moment as waves of relief washed over her as her world slowly fell back into place. Finally, everything was right again.

"Mommy?" Snapping back to reality, she tore into the room and to his side, quickly cradling his head in her arms.

"Yes, baby. I'm here." Her voice was shaking as she clung to him, smoothing his hair back and placing gentle kisses on his forehead. She cringed when she noticed his bruised cheek and his cut up arms. He was hurt, and it was her fault. She hadn't been focused on the road; she'd gotten too caught up in things. Her mistake had almost cost her the most important thing in the world.

"Uh, so are you the mother?" a voice chimed suddenly from behind her and Alison shot her head up to the door. She felt another rush of relief, however, when she didn't recognize the woman standing at the entrance.

"Y-Yes, hello. I'm Alison Carter," she stuttered quickly, offering the woman an awkward half-wave that made her feel ridiculous. The woman gave a small smile, her unusual eyes twinkling a bit.

"Finally. I was starting to get worried when no one came to claim him." She moved over to check his vitals, silently examining his chart. Alison sat in silence for a moment, absently stroking Jayden's hair, before finally murmuring,

"Are you his doctor?" The woman smiled at her again, a small, infectious smile that made Alison feel a slight tug at her lips.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm Doctor Hadley. I'm doing my boss's clinic duty right now, so I'll be your son's doctor until he's discharged." Alison instantly zeroed in on what she said and she found her breathing stop short. It sounded disturbingly familiar.

"House," she whispered accidentally, the name slipping from her tongue before she even realized it. She had hoped that it was quiet enough not to be heard, but then she saw the look of surprise Dr. Hadley gave her.

"Yeah. Do you know him?" And then, much to Alison's complete dread, the younger doctor's eyes left her face to study Jayden.

"Know who?" Alison said far too quickly, unable to do anything to stop that searching gaze the doctor was giving her son. She knew the doctor was figuring it out, was seeing the similarities. Those deep blue eyes, the hair. Thankfully Jayden wasn't speaking, because it only took a few words from him to know exactly who his father is.

And then suddenly that look of curious confusion stopped, as though it had finally clicked, and a knowing expression crossed the doctor's face.

"Nevermind," Hadley said with the smallest of smirks and Alison just knew that she knew.

"So how long do you think we're going to be here?" Alison said, again too quickly. Hadley slowly brought herself back into doctor mode.

"He didn't get too beat up in the accident, but we'd like to keep him here for observations overnight just to be sure. He can leave tomorrow." Alison let out another sigh of relief before nodding her head, mumbling a soft 'thank you'. Hadley gave her a curt nod before turning and heading out the door. Alison turned back to Jayden, who had managed to fall asleep now that he was once more in the arms of his mother. She felt another smile creeping up as she closed her eyes, gently rocking and humming some old nursery rhyme.

"Dr. Hadley," a voice carried into the room from out in the hall.

Alison's eyes shot open.  
She knew that voice.

"Dr. Cuddy," the younger woman greeted neutrally, and Alison pulled herself up suddenly, almost jerking Jayden awake in the process. Carefully laying him back on the bed, she snuck over to the glass sliding door, carefully peering around the corner to see the two doctors chatting.

Alison stared at the familiar back of the Dean of Medicine, who was turned away as she spoke to Hadley, who was facing Jayden's room. Alison cringed back into the hospital room when she saw Hadley's eyes shift slightly towards her, sending her a curious raised eyebrow. Alison just looked at her desperately.

"So what's up?" Dr Hadley chirped in suddenly, trying to decipher the mortified looks Alison was giving Cuddy.

"I'm here looking for a certain person of interest," Cuddy continued hesitantly, oblivious to the silent exchange, but aware that something was off. "A woman named Alison Carter." Alison's heart continued racing as she saw the look of recognition cross Hadley's face.

"Really…," she murmured, her voice still neutral. Alison was terrified. She had no idea what this unknown doctor was going to do, but she knew that if Cuddy saw her it would all be over.

Realizing she was running on borrowed time, Alison quickly began creeping out into the hallway. She glanced behind her only to see Dr. Cuddy start to turn around, dangerously close to seeing her. That is, of course, until Dr. Hadley grabbed her arm with a sudden,

"Wait!" resulting in a shocked look from Cuddy and a look of eternal thanks on Alison's. Watching Alison quietly disappear around the corner and out of sight, Dr Hadley barely noticed the incredulous look on the Dean's face as she peeled her hand from her arm.

"What else, Dr. Hadley?" she said with barely concealed annoyance. Hadley just smirked slightly, mumbling,

"Oh, nothing. It's not important." And she turned then to walk down the hallway, ignoring the questioning stares of her boss's boss. She listened to the sharp clicks of heels as the Dean made her way to the room only to find it was empty besides the single tiny occupant.

She wasn't sure why she did it. For all she knew, that woman could have been some recently escaped psychotic serial killer. It had just been a split second decision, really, but when she heard the exasperated sigh from Dr Cuddy, Hadley couldn't help but smile.

She just hoped she wouldn't regret this later.

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A/N: See if you recognize what episode I stole this chapter from (;

So this is a bit longer than my past ones, I am proud to say. I took a four hour road trip the other day and had nothing to do but write, so I came up with a lot of stuff for this story!

And haha even in my Hameron story I throw in some Cadley interactions :P

And though I never use disclaimers because I automatically assume you guys are smart enough to know I don't own House, I'm going to go ahead and say the © for a good bit of the dialogue goes to the owners of the show House, M.D.


	8. Chapter 8

House needed a drink.

Desperately.

This day was taking far too long for his liking, and his mind kept taking him back to his apartment, back to his liquor cabinet, and back to his secret place of darkness and fleeting moments of hazy nostalgia. He didn't want to think about how it would feel tomorrow, once the wistfulness and alcohol wore off, when he would wake up feeling even emptier then he felt now. He could deal with that tomorrow; all that mattered was getting back to that place and getting back to his dreams.

Although, if he thought about it, he had managed to find his way back there earlier today without any alcohol at all. He couldn't help but remember that nagging little mirage he'd seen in the lobby before, the woman who was Cameron.

That was certainly what it was, after all. A mirage. A figment of his demented imagination, nothing more than another way for his subconscious to taunt him with the things he can never have again.

Why was he seeing her at work? It didn't make sense. He hadn't had anything to drink at all today. He hadn't touched any alcohol since last night (or, rather, this morning, considering it was around two am when he'd delved into his extensive gin collection), and yet he was already seeing his hallucinations. His mind seemed to be deteriorating the world around him and he suddenly feared he may lose it completely in these memories of Cameron.

A thought hit him: would that be so bad? I mean truly, would endless dreams of Cameron be such a terrible thing? To be forever lost in a hallucination of her, to forget completely that she was dead? He could float along in a haze, seeing her, reliving a memory of some long ago case. Even if it were all in his head, it might be worth it if he could have her for just a little bit longer. As time inched on, that seemed like a wonderful alternative to his current dreary day-to-day existence.

Maybe insanity wouldn't be that bad. House thought back to earlier in the day, when he'd gone bursting into Wilson's office. He'd used the pretense of needing an opinion on the case, but as Wilson offered him some semi-reasonable advice House couldn't stop himself from blurting out,

"I saw Cameron today."

This was met with a stunned silence as Wilson stared at him, trying to determine the proper response. House had actually used her name, actually said the name 'Cameron, which had immediately thrown Wilson off. He hadn't heard that name in years. That name had become a forbidden word, a massive weight that sat on the shoulders of every conversation the two had. It was always there, in the back of their minds. It was an off-limits topic, _she_ was an off-limits topic. House studied Wilson, gauging his reaction, before slowly mumbling,

"She was blonde."

Wilson opened his mouth, as if to say something, only to close it again. Really now, how does one respond to someone seeing a dead girl?

"House…," he began, only to leave it hanging in the air. He truly didn't know what to say.

"I've… got the number of this grief counselor I give to patients sometimes…," his pathetic attempt was cut short, however, by a loud groan from House and the slam of his door as House hobbled away.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean _she's gone_?" the federal agent hissed as he glared down at the Dean of Medicine, her hands held up in a sign of defeat. He'd arrived at the hospital not three minutes ago after she'd called, and yet here she was saying that Alison was no where to be seen. Hart rubbed his temples roughly, trying to will the migraine away. This was not a good day.

"I'm sorry, honestly. One of my nurses said Alison Carter had checked the front desk for her son and that she came to this room. I'm assuming that she's still in the hospital. Er… you could go wait with her son, if you'd like." The Marshal's face lit up instantly at the suggestion and he nodded eagerly, desperate to see at least one of them. He needed to see them physically to accept that they were alright, not just hear about them.

As the two made their way towards the patient's room, neither noticed a certain cane-wielding doctor observing from across the hall where he had just hastily exited a certain oncologist's office. He stood now, watching as they entered and the federal agent spoke with the little boy.

House needed a distraction, desperately, and this witness protection business was a perfect outlet for his stress.

He couldn't help but plot a million ways to steal this boy's case.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Hadley found her hiding partially behind a vending machine just outside the cafeteria. She was crouching slightly besides the giant device, her back to Hadley, so the doctor was able to see the woman as she peered around the machine hesitantly, obviously hiding from someone.

"Ms. Carter?"

Dr. Hadley had never seen anyone jump as badly as the woman did, given that she leapt a good three feet from her original spot. Hadley had to bite back a laugh.

The woman stared at her fearfully, her face a deathly pale courtesy of the scare she had just had.

"D-Dr Hadley," she murmured, trying to slow her heart beat. She'd been hiding out by the cafeteria for nearly an hour now, trying to avoid being seen. So far she'd caught a glimpse of a handful of people she recognized as former colleagues, but she'd managed to stay mostly out of sight. Earlier, however, one of them had gotten a look at her at one point and she just knew they'd realize who she was, but they just moved on as though she were just another random face in the crowd. Which, she supposed, she was now. This was Alison Cameron's hospital, not hers.

She just wasn't that person anymore.

And she'd been doing so well at staying off the radar, too. How'd this woman find her?

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," there was no hiding the amusement in the doctor's voice, and Alison suddenly felt the urge to defend herself.

"You didn't scare me," she murmured, painfully aware of how utterly false she sounded. The doctor gave her a humored look, her eyebrows arched and her eyes showing a hint of emotion, before finally dropping the subject.

Deciding, instead, to stop the dance and acknowledge her true reason for hunting the woman down, she finally murmured the question that had been replaying in her mind since she'd first met this woman earlier in the day.

"Are you or have you ever been a serial killer?"

Hadley was able to maintain a completely serious face, despite that jaw-dropping eyes-bulging expression she received from the woman in question.

"What?!" Alison asked incredulously, caught completely off-guard. Sure, she'd anticipated some questions for what happened earlier, but _that_? Really?

"No, I'm pretty sure I am not a serial killer." She was trying to decide whether or not the question was a serious one, though the doctor's expression seemed to suggest it was.

Hadley nodded, having expected (and hoped for) this response, before finally mumbling,

"Alright. Then, would you like to tell me why there's a fed here looking for you?"

Once again, Alison's eyes bulged and her jaw dropped as realization kicked in.

Hart was here, looking for her.

_Of course! _How could she be so stupid? She was so distracted by her hunt for Jayden and her quest to stay undetected that she'd completely forgotten to talk to her Marshal or to even tell him that she was alive!

She let out a slight gasp, covering her mouth as she thought of what he must think right now. They'd been on the phone when it had happened. He probably thought she was dead.

"Where is he?" she asked breathlessly, guilt overcoming her. Hadley noticed the sudden shift from her defensive state, but didn't comment on it.

"He's in your son's room."

Alison nodded and, without another word, turned and headed down the hallway.

-------------------------------------------------------

House, who had remained in his hiding place watching the Marshal and his (witness?) interact with Cuddy, felt a sense of dread as he caught sight of the very thing he so desperately strove to forget:

Cameron.

She was there, not ten yards from him, peeking around a corner at the same scene he was observing. He studied her from the distance, his eyes roving meticulously over her body with a hunger he hadn't felt in years, trying to dissociate the real woman from Cameron.

Obviously it wasn't _really_ Cameron. Some part of his mind was still functioning enough to know the bandaged, secretive girl standing nearby wasn't really her. Still, as he studied her he was finding it really difficult to not see Cameron in her. It should have been easy. They were so different.

Different hair color, different figure.

Even her face was somehow different, though that could just be her glasses and that hideous baseball cap. This girl wasn't his Cameron, that was a definitive fact.  
But she was so close, she was almost Cameron.

And honestly, that was enough to keep his interest.

He watched as she smiled at the sight of the man and the boy, and House felt an unfamiliar flair of jealousy at the sight. Was the man the boy's father? Not that he cared, of course. Why would he care about such a thing? Still, he soon found himself studying the man's face, using his knowledge of genetics to try and match them to the features of the boy. He let out a breath of relief when he realized that they didn't share any obvious hereditary traits.

Besides, the man seemed too anxious, too jumpy as he rubbed his hands together and paced the room, jabbering on to the boy in the hospital bed. House couldn't see the blonde woman taking to the man, though he really didn't know anything about her or her taste. His gut simply told him that they weren't a likely pairing.

Not that he cared, though.  
Certainly not.

Tearing himself from his odd thoughts, House watched as the woman stepped forward, about to approach the room, but stop completely when Cuddy stepped into sight from where she'd been lurking behind the glass wall. He watched with interest as she slunk back into the shadows and disappears around the corner.

House felt the sudden urge to follow her, to observe her from a distance instead of the federal agent, but his move to chase after the mysterious woman was interrupted as Cuddy and the agent stepped out from within the room.

"-_very_ important that I find her, Dr. Cuddy," House heard the Marshal say as the two stepped from the boy's bedroom. Cuddy nodded, acknowledging the importance of this.

"Don't worry, Agent Hart. We will find her."

And as the two people separated in the hallway, Cuddy heading towards her office while the officer headed for a coffee break, the pieces finally fell into place for House. Apparently he'd been too distracted by the blonde to realize the truth:

The girl from before who was from the witness protection program.

She was the blonde bombshell.

This woman, this almost-Cameron, was the same woman the U.S. Marshal had been looking for.

He couldn't help the massive smirk that suddenly graced his lips as he approached the Nurse's Station and casually demanded the patient file of room 412. He was looking for a distraction from his problems, and now he had it.

He was feeling better already.

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Alright, I am SO sorry for how long this update took! Honestly, you have every right to be agitated at me for this ridiculous hiatus.  
I'm in my last two weeks of school right now, and preparation for finals and such has been occupying all my free time and I haven't had any time to write.  
I promise that once school is over my updates will be much more regular!  
Just got to make it through this last home stretch before summer can begin. (Woo for being a senior next year!)

Also, I was trying to tread lightly on the 'Cameron hallucination' bits because I got it in my head that that wouldn't be something they'd use on the real show, but now with the whole Amber hallucinations I'm kind of thinking it's more legit xD So I'm definitely going to have fun with that.


	9. Chapter 9

House limped with a haughty air as he entered the auditorium, taking his time before reaching his desk.

All his would-be fellows watched with skittish eyes, wondering what sort of evils he'd concocted for them today.

"We have a new case," he announced with a small smile. Everyone sat up instantly, all too eager to prove their own worth. They'd been at this 'game' for weeks now and they were all desperate to get a seat on his coveted staff.

"Four year old male, bruised ribs, concussion, sprained wrist, and a widespread collection of bruises. Go."

The crowd stared at him silently, all still poised to attack, but no one volunteering an answer. After another long moment of incredulous stares, someone finally mumbled,

"Are you—are you kidding?"

House just arched an eyebrow, saying,

"Do I ever kid, generic number?"

The man flustered a bit before mumbling,

"Doctor House, that's not a sickness. It sounds like a domestic abuse case, if anything."

House shook his head, moving to sit down on top of his desk.

"Not an abuse case. Two days ago he was in a car accident."

The room filled with scoffs and agitated sighs, their attack ready stances falling in disappointment.

"This isn't a case, Doctor House. Every 'symptom' can be attributed to the accident."

House smirked, already knowing this, before mumbling,

"I want a CT scan run, better yet… I want you all to come up with any possible sickness this kid could have, and then run a test for it. Whoever comes up with the most time consuming test gets to keep their job."

The fellows exchanged skeptical looks before jumping up and hastily racing out of the auditorium. House chuckled at their desperate need to impress him before moving to erase the white board. He had assumed that all his wanna-be followers had scattered, so he was caught off guard when a voice suddenly called,

"Who is she?"

House turned slowly, surprised to be questioned by a seemingly empty room, only to find that Thirteen was still in her seat, watching him with curious eyes. He smirked slightly, pleased by her shrewdness, before feigning confusion.

"Why aren't you scattering like the rest of the pack?"

"The patient obviously isn't sick, we all know that," she spoke, completely ignoring him.

"Not to mention the fact that the patient's mother jumps at the mere mention of you, while you stake her room out like a hound on the hunt. So, who is she?"

House couldn't help but gape in surprise. He had no idea that almost-Cameron was avoiding him, considering he'd never even spoken to her before. Suppressing the shocked look, he murmured,

"I don't know. Never met her." Ignoring the not-at-all-convinced expression Thirteen was shooting his way, he quickly limped out of the room. Things were certainly getting interesting.

"Haven't met her yet," he murmured under his breath, "but I will."

------------------------------------------------------------

Alison had been hiding out in Jayden's room, the need to be with her baby outweighing the need to stay out of sight. She hovered by his bed, comforting him and fawning over him, all the while prepared to duck at a moment's notice behind the wrap around curtain that surrounded the bed next to Jayden's, which was fortunately empty.

Before coming here, she'd lurked around the ER trying to look inconspicuous before finally venturing back to her son's room, praying that Cuddy would be gone. Her prayer had been answered, but she was disappointed to see that Hart was gone, as well. Now she just hovered about, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Jayden watched her with mild disinterest, obviously used to his neurotic mother. He couldn't help but sigh in sadness at the loss of his game boy, which had apparently not survived the accident. It was an atrocity, really—he'd just beaten an insanely hard level.

His eyes flew to the window as doctors scurried to and fro, only to see a few lurking outside the glass, staring right back. Feeling uncomfortable, he reached out and tugged on his mom's sleeve, instantly yanking her attention back to him.

"Mommy, why are they lookin' at us?" Alison glanced up, only to have the two milling doctors turn away instantly, obviously embarrassed of being caught staring.

Finally finding something that she could have some control over, Alison jumped up to go confront the doctors. They seemed sheepish and uncertain as she approached, which only made her more nervous and determined.

"Hello, are you my son's doctors?" The two men glanced apprehensively at one another, as though she'd asked a trick question, before slowly nodding their heads in an almost synchronized motion.

"We… what I mean is… we aren't the official doctors, because his official doctor is Doctor House," one of the doctors, a man with raven hair and an Indian skin tone, murmured, "but we are working on his case, so-"

"So yes, we're his doctors," the other man, a shorter man with a distinct nose and a receding hairline, interjected. He held out his hand as an offering, introducing himself as Doctor Chris Taub. The Indian doctor, seeing what the other was doing, did the same and introduced himself as Doctor Kutner.

Alison just stared at them dumbfounded, as her mind had stopped functioning at the name _Doctor House_. She felt like her ears were ringing and she couldn't help but glance up, sarcastically thinking _'You're doing this to get back at me for being an atheist, aren't you?'_

There was no other way to explain how this could happen. Why would House even take this case? He only took interesting cases, and all that had happened here was a car accident.

Noticing the odd looks they were giving her and realizing she was being rude, Alison hesitantly extended her good hand and shook their hands one at a time. Her mind was reeling as a new thought hit her: what if this _was_ an interesting case? What if something was wrong with Jayden?

Suddenly alarmed, she all but shouted,

"What's wrong with my son?"

And again, the two men exchanged secretive, shady looks that only made her heart ache even more. What could be so bad that they'd hesitate like this?

"Well mayam, uhhh, you see…" They struggled for words, straining. She turned to look at her son, studying him for symptoms. He stared back at her with a curious expression, wondering why mommy was getting all riled up in the hallway.

She watched his hands, no shakes. She studied his face, his eyes, his mouth, everything she could see. And still there was nothing. She'd worked under House for years and, even with her five years of inactivity, she was fairly certain that she could still diagnose a case. But looking at her son now, she saw absolutely no signs of any sort of sickness what so ever.

So what had these doctors seen that she couldn't see?

"Ms. Carter," a familiar voice greeted and she glanced up from her near hysteria to see Doctor Hadley approach. She felt a new wave of optimism now that this doctor was here, thinking that she would finally be told the truth.

"Doctor Hadley, can you tell me what's wrong with my son?"

Doctor Hadley glanced over Alison's shoulder into the curious, familiar blue eyes of her son. She studied him again, noting the genetic traits she recognized from a certain boss of hers. Ignoring Alison's question, she glanced over at her fellow fellows, wondering if they noticed it too. They didn't. She sighed.

"Ms. Carter…," she started, but stopped when she glanced over at Alison only to find her attention fixated on someone else. She turned, following her gaze, until they landed on the federal agent from before. She let out a breath of relief, glad that she didn't have to improvise some lie for the woman when in reality there was nothing wrong with her son.

Just House and his mysterious interest in her, which, looking at her son, was starting to seem less mysterious.

Relief hit Alison in a wave when she saw that familiar bulk of her marshal rushing towards her, but her relief dissolved as quickly as it came when she caught sight of the look on his face. Her eyes widened as she saw Hart rushing towards her, clearly fuming.

"Uh oh," she muttered under her breath, earning her sideways glances from House's wanna-be team. Then the two men noticed the giant man rushing towards them, his face bright red with barely contained anger. Alison held her hands up defensively, quickly saying,

"I can explain." He didn't seem interested in her explanation, though, as he pointed to an empty hospital room across from Jayden's.

"In there. Now." His voice dripped with venom and she walked in slowly, only to have him rush in behind her and slam the glass door, as much as one can slam a glass door, before he turned to shout at her.

"Are you crazy?!" he threw his arms up in the air as he shouted, clearly needing to physically show how upset he was. The new team watched from the other side of the glass door as the two argued.

"Do you think he's the father?" Kutner mumbled, watching the man screaming at the pretty blonde.

"Maybe. He seems upset about the kid being in the hospital." Taub mumbled as they all failed at their attempts to not watch the dispute.

"Unless he put the kid here, that is."

Kutner rolled his eyes, murmuring,

"It was a car accident, remember?" Taub glanced at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say _well-aren't-you-naïve._

"Oh yeah, because a domestic abuse victim has never lied about being abused before. Sometimes it's a 'car accident', sometimes it's 'I fell down the stairs.'"

"He's not the dad," Thirteen interjected. The two glanced at her in surprise at the topic change, having both forgotten for a second that she was even standing there. The serious look on her face quickly made them wonder if she knew something they didn't.

"He looks nothing like the kid." she explained, not wanting to mention who she really thought was the father. It was a stupid theory, really. _House _as a father? If that was the case, then she wasn't sure who she sympathized more with: the kid, or the mom. The mom for having to sleep with a guy like House, or the kid for having his genes. She couldn't help but smirk at that thought before turning her attention back to the glass and the arguing pair.

---------------------------------

"It's not my fault, ok? Look, William, I didn't plan to get into an accident while we were going through New Jersey! After the wreck they took us to different hospitals! I had no say in the matter!" Alison continued to defend herself within the room, oblivious to the new team's discussion on the other side of the glass. Her mind was too focused on Hart.

"Don't you get it, Alison? If someone recognizes you here it's over! You're breaking the biggest rule of all!" He was infuriated at her. How could she risk not only her life, but Jayden's? Didn't she realize the risk in coming back here?

"Look, no one's recognized me yet, ok? I can stay in the shadows and everyone here will be none the wiser. I mean, I have changed a lot since the last time I was here."

He just sighed angrily, clenching and unclenching his fists. He'd never wanted to hit a woman so badly in his life. He settled for poking an angry finger at her and hissing,

"If anyone, and I mean ANYONE, recognizes you, it's over, you realize that? We'll have to find you another identity and you and Jayden will be moved to a new beginning again. Is that what you want?" She sighed angrily, running her hands through her hair.

"No, that's not what I want. What do you want me to do, Hart? Drag my son out the front door? I think that might cause some unwanted attention." He glared at her, hating that she was right, hating that there was nothing they could do, and hating the guilt he felt for all of this. He was the reason they were out on the interstate to begin with. He'd almost gotten them killed.

She saw that his glare had softened a bit, so she tried a weak smile before saying,

"Look, I'll be careful, ok?" He sighed again before turning to leave. She thought about mentioning the fact that Jayden's father happened to be his attending physician, but the fury the man had just released told her that little bit of information would most likely push him over the edge.

"You better be," he mumbled as he left the room, storming past the team that had been gawking at their quarrel. Cameron found herself blushing then, realizing they'd been watching the two argue the entire time.

"Um, he's just worried about Jayden," she managed lamely as she pushed past them and disappeared down the hallway.

"See?" Kutner mumbled as they watched her leave, "he is the father."

Thirteen just rolled her eyes, saying,

"That doesn't prove anything. And why did he yell at her? It's not like she caused the pile-up." She turned to head down the hallway, her two teammates trailing behind. Taub glanced over his shoulder hesitantly before mumbling,

"I hope he isn't the father. I don't like how he yelled at her." Kutner just laughed, saying,

"Hey now, don't start crushing on her. You've got a wife, remember?" Taub just sighed, murmuring,

"Yeah. Don't remind me."

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Alright, so I have more or less mapped out the rest of this story and it should only be about 10-13 more chapters, unless I go off on some tangent along the way.  
BTW, there will be a little Jayden/House interaction in the foreseeable future (as in within the next couple chapters).

It would make me smile like a five year old on Christmas if you'd review (:


	10. Chapter 10

Alison wandered through the back hallways of Princeton-Plainsboro, drifting instinctively towards a place she used to hide out at during her immunologist days. On the third floor of the hospital there was a hallway that dead-ended into a small alcove. This alcove was off the beaten trail and as such rarely had people in it, which is why Alison used to retreat there often back when she worked here.

Alison settled into one of the giant chairs that lined the walls and pulled out her cell phone. Hart had, after cooling off for a bit, approached her and given her a new cheap phone, telling her to lay low and wait for his call.

While she was waiting, she figured she might as well make a call to a certain friend of hers that she missed exceedingly. She sat now, the phone pressed to her ear, listening to the ringing and praying she'd be home. And, sure enough, after the third ring she heard that familiar, friendly voice chime,

"Hello?"

Alison felt herself relaxing already just from hearing that calming voice.

"Hey Jan, it's me."

This was met with a squeal and a garble of rushed words as Jan overwhelmed her with joy, telling her how much she missed her and how work had sucked without her there to gossip with. Alison just smiled, listening to her friend rant on and on about life back in Kingwood, and for a moment Alison actually felt a little homesick.

It was ironic that she would feel homesick towards her cover home when she was here now, in her old life and old home. In reality, she didn't know which one she considered her true home. She didn't really belong in Kingwood, as she always felt the shadow of Rick Medici cast over her. And here, well, here she was nothing more than a ghost.

No matter where she went it seems that Alison could never truly find where she belonged.

"So sweetheart, I thought you said this was only going to be a day trip. Why are you still up in Princeton?"

Alison sighed. She knew this question was coming, but that didn't mean she wanted to answer it. She knew how Jan would react.

"Well, on the way up here we ended up getting in an accident. There was this interstate pile-up and-" she wasn't allowed to continue, though, as Jan all but screamed,

"What?! The pile-up on Interstate 64? You were in that? Oh Alison, are you alright? Where's Jayden? Is he ok? Did you get hurt? Did you-"

Alison sighed, listening to her friend's endless list of questions. After a moment of silently waiting, Alison finally interrupted with,

"We're fine, Jan! Really, we're both fine. I've got mild injuries and we're just waiting for Jayden to be released from the hospital. Everything is ok… well, except for my car, I guess. It didn't survive the accident."

Jan just laughed, her laughter filled with relief, before saying,

"Well your car was a piece of crap, anyway. At least now it's where it belongs- in some landfill."

Alison just rolled her eyes at her best friend. She'd missed this, missed being able to talk to Jan. She hadn't spoken to the woman in two days and she was feeling really alone right now.

"So we'll be home in a few days, I guess," Alison murmured, trying to get excited. _And I'll probably never come here again._ There was silence on the other end before Jan said,

"What's wrong?"

Of course. Jan had always been able to read Alison and she always knew when she was upset.

"Nothing's wrong," she lied.

"Al, please. You can't lie to me, you know that. Now tell me what's wrong. Come on… I can tell you want to."

Alison chewed on her lip subconsciously, mentally debating whether or not to tell her. Obviously she couldn't tell her anything about witness protection, but she could at least tell her about House. Alison felt as though she were going to explode with all these secrets she'd kept in, and she really just needed to get something off her chest.

"Alright, well… you know Jayden's father…."

There was no reply, because Jan didn't. Alison never mentioned Jayden's father, not even once, and so Jan truly knew nothing about the man. But Alison didn't need her confirmation, so she continued.

"The thing is… he's here right now. He's Jayden's doctor."

This revelation was met with more silence before finally, hesitantly, Jan responded.

"….Wow, Alison. I mean, just- wow. Is it beyond awkward there?"

"No, actually, he hasn't seen me yet."

"What? How exactly have you managed that?"

"I'm pretty sneaky. Plus, he doesn't know who Jayden is so-" her sentence was cut short, however, by Jan's sudden interjection.

"Wait, he doesn't know who he is? Does he even know that Jayden exists?"

Now it was Jan's turn to be met with silence.

"Alison….." she murmured in a low, sad voice.

"Listen, Jan, it's complicated," Alison said in a clipped, sharp tone, "besides, you don't know him. What happened between us was… a drunken night. And he would never want Jayden, he hates kids…"

Jan let out a slow, cathartic breath, before muttering,

"Well then he's an idiot."

Alison just chuckled softly.

"He's not an idiot, Jan. He's a brilliant diagnostician."

"….who just happens to be an idiot. Look, Al, the man would_ have_ to be an idiot if he didn't want you two."

Alison smiled then, her eyes starting to water as a single tear slipped free.

"You think so?"

"I know so, sweetheart. Now listen, I say you just ignore him while your there and keep your head up high. Never let'em see you sweat. Just focus on getting out of the hospital and getting home."

_Home._

There it was again. That word had certainly taken on a new meaning in these last few years, and Alison wondered just where her home was.

Was it back in Kingwood with Jan, or here in Princeton with House?

She knew which one she would pick if she had the choice.

But then, it had been many long years since she'd had any real choices at all.

-----------------------------------------

Kutner, Taub, and Thirteen found themselves locked away in the lab running unnecessary tests on a kid that wasn't even sick. They had unofficially formed a team together, running their tests as a group instead of mingling with the other would-be fellows. Kutner and Taub enjoyed bantering back and forth, and Thirteen more or less just followed at a distance.

"Why do we have to do this? Do you think this is some sort of test?" Kutner asked as he stared into a microscope, already knowing that he would see nothing.

"I doubt it. Probably just House's attempt to piss Cuddy off," Taub contributed as he leaned against the counter, writing down NEGATIVE for everything. This really was a waste of time.

Thirteen, however, was completely unaware of their discussion, as her mind was a thousand miles away. There were so many clues, so many obvious facts that pointed to House being that kid's father.

The eyes, the hair, the facial structure.

And even clues beyond the physical details, like how Ms. Carter was working so hard to avoid House. Maybe a bad one night stand, who knows? She couldn't help but wonder if she should investigate it or just let it slide.

"….no way he's the father," Taub's voice suddenly cut into her thoughts, bringing her back to the conversation.

"Man, you are a broken record," Kutner teased, replacing his microscope slide with another one. Still negative.

"I'm serious. I'd bet money that that man is not the father. Heck, I'd bet House was the father before I'd bet he was."

"Really?" Thirteen chimed in suddenly, drawing the boys' attention to her. Again, they had managed to forget that she was even there.

"What?" Taub asked, confused.

"Would you really bet money that House was the father?" The two men looked at her like she was crazy before a slow grin scurried across Kutner's face.

"Oh I see. Alright, let's have ourselves a little wager shall we?" Taub's eyes flew wide as he tried to backpedal.

"Wait a second, I didn't actually mean-"

"Calm down," Kutner exclaimed, jumping up from his microscope eagerly. Thirteen watched him in amusement, curious as to where he was going with this.

"Here's the wager: I bet fifty bucks that cop-face has a higher percentage on a paternity test than House does. Taub, what about you?"

Taub looked at him in shock, horrified that his little statement had been blown out of proportion.

"You're serious?"

Kutner nodded furiously and Thirteen's smile grew wider.

After a long moment of thought, Taub weakly murmured,

"Cop-face."

This earned him a groan of annoyance from Kutner, who whined,

"Don't change your side, man! If you bet with me than there's no one to bet against."

"I'll bet on House," Thirteen said with a smile, interrupting them. Kutner's grin grew even wider as he nodded his head.

"Here we go, that's more like it. Alright, so all we need to do is run a paternity test for both of them and whoever gets the highest percentage, wins."

They all stared at one another for a moment before all nodding their heads in agreement.

"You're on."

----------------------------------------

House couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He sat at his desk in his office, idly waiting for the day to end, and he could feel eyes on him. And sure enough, as he turned around he caught sight of his little stalker, his deep blue eyes meeting two tiny matching ones.

A little boy stood outside his office, hands and face pressed against the glass as he watched House. House stared at him for a moment before shouting,

"Do you belong to someone?"

The boy took this as an invitation and barged in, his tiny arms barely able to reach the door knob. House sighed in agitation, not at all in the mood to baby-sit some little brat. He had far more important things to be doing, his gameboy being top priority.

The little boy with the bright blue eyes made his way to House's couch, plopping down with a giant smile.

"Hi, I'm Jayden!" he chirped happily.

"Of course you are. Shouldn't you be with your_ mommy_?" House sneered, looking down at the kid. He noted the hospital clothes the kid wore and realized he must be a patient.

Jayden just shrugged, holding up his little hands to further his point.

"I dunno where she is. She's a weirdo, she keeps sneaking around." This caught House's attention as he recalled the patient with the secretive mother and the U.S. Marshal. He couldn't help but smirk as he realized this little boy must be him.

"When does your mommy come to visit you, Jordan?" he asked slowly, sitting next to the boy on the couch and studying his eyes. This was his chance to finally solve his latest puzzle. He tweaked his head to the side a bit as he studied him, familiarity creeping in. There was something about those eyes…

"Jayden!" he corrected with childlike annoyance.

"Yeah, I said that. So when does she usually come?" House continued impatiently. Jayden just shrugged again.

"I dunno. When it's nap time." This wasn't quite the answer House was looking for, but he realized it was probably the best he was going to get.

"Alright. I should take you to your room." he murmured as he pulled himself up and moved towards the door. He knew the patient really shouldn't be out of bed, even if his case wasn't too extreme. Besides, he really had no interest in hanging out with some kid when he could be at home getting wasted.

The sound of a throat clearing forced him to turn around, revealing an expectant hand held out by Jayden.

"What?" House grumbled, feigning confusion.

Jayden jumped up, taking the man's hand.

"Not allowed 'less I hold a grown up's hand." Jayden explained, as though it were completely obvious. House just sighed angrily, walking the boy down the hallway. He contemplated pointing out that he'd come all the way to his office without an adult, but he finally just settled on murmuring quickly,

"Baby."

Jayden glanced over at him, scanning him up and down.

"Why do you walk with a stick?" he asked, his innocent curiosity evident in his voice.

"Didn't your mommy ever teach you not to talk to strangers?" House grumbled as they reached the elevator. He clicked the button once, and then pressed it once more for good measure. Jayden nodded his head in confirmation, but mumbled,

"You're not a stranger, stick-man." House ignored the nickname and instead focused on the other thing the boy had said as the doors opened. He walked the boy on, pressing the boy's floor before stepping off.

"Oh really? Why am I not a stranger?" The boy just looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world before declaring,

"Because, silly! Mommy has showed me your picture a million billion times."

House's eyes widened in surprise, as he had clearly not expected that answer. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late.

The elevator doors had already closed.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the closed doors.

"Was that your son?" a voice from behind him called. He turned, starting back towards his office.

"Of course not. Do I look like the kind of person who'd have a kid?" was all he could manage, his mind still reeling from the little boy's words. What could it mean? Almost-Cameron had showed that kid pictures of him?

The nurse who'd asked glanced at him as he passed. It seemed to be a relatively new nurse, one that hadn't yet learned to fear him.

"Hmmm, really? He looks just like you."

House didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just huffed off. He waited until he reached the relative safety of his office before reflecting on everything that had happened. He had no idea what to make of all this, but one thing was clear:

He had to meet this kid's mom.

-----------------------------------------

Alison still sat in the alcove, chatting with Jan. After what felt like ages she finally glanced at her watch, noting the time.

"Well look, Jan, it's getting late and I think I'm going to go get a hotel room. I seriously need a shower and a real bed."

Jan's laugh echoed through the phone before she mumbled,

"I agree with that shower, Al. I can smell you through the phone." Alison just rolled her eyes before murmuring,

"Har har, aren't you_ hilarious_. Alright, seriously, I'm hanging up on you now." She started to pull the phone from her ear, waiting until she heard Jan say bye before finally hanging up.

She smiled down at the phone, a feeling of peace finally setting in. That was her home. It may not have been her first choice, and probably not her second, either, but like it or not that was where she had to be. She needed to get out of this town, this hospital, and back to that. Stirring up old feelings by being here were only going to make her feel confused.

Alison turned to get up, but froze when she noticed a presence behind her. She closed her eyes, silently praying it had been her imagination.

"_Cameron_?!" a voice filled with utter shock called and she cringed.

_Oh please, no. I've lasted this long without being spotted…_

Slowly, Alison turned around to find herself face to face with an old acquaintance, his face drained and pale, looking as though he'd seen a ghost. Gulping almost audibly, Alison whispered,

"Hello, Dr. Wilson."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Fun fact: Paternity tests basically show how similar a child's DNA is to a possible parent. If it matches around 50%, they're the parent.**


	11. Chapter 11

Kutner hovered by a column near the front desk, his eyes locked on the burly man resting in the lobby. The man, his target, sat with his head in his hands, his back rising and falling gradually as he took in slow and measured breathes. Kutner started to move towards him only to stop, shaking his head. Was he sure he wanted to do this?

Of course he was! The bet was on, no matter what, and all he needed was to get Cop Face's DNA in order to finish it. He had already snuck into House's office earlier to steal his coffee mug for his DNA. There was no backing out now.

Taking in one more breath, he approached.

"You're here for Jayden Carter, right?"

The man glanced up at him before nodding. Kutner smiled a wide, disarming smile before saying,

"I'm one of his doctors. We just ran some tests and everything seems to be fine."

Cop Face smiled, scratching his temple nervously.

"How much longer do you suppose he'll be here?"

Kutner's lips smacked as his mouth flew open, his mind reeling for a believable excuse. After a moment of hesitation, he finally murmured,

"That all depends on when Doctor House is ready to discharge him... But hey, I bet you're pretty thirsty, what with you sitting out here for so long and all. Here, have a soda," Kutner chirped happily as he handed the large man a can of Coke he'd gotten from a vending machine.

Wow. That wasn't suspicious at all.  
_Way to be conspicuous._  
Maybe he should have gotten Thirteen to do this for him instead; he had never really been a very good actor.  
_  
_

Hart eyed him suspiciously for a moment before taking the offering, slowly popping the top.

"Thank you."

Kutner couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as the man chugged the drink down completely in two sips. He started to feel a bit nervous, however, when the man crushed the can in one hand and handed it back to him, an agitated look on his face.

"So when do I get to meet this Doctor House?" he asked slowly. Kutner tried not to gulp, instantly feeling bad for House if he ever ran into this man. Maybe there was some credit to that child abuse theory, after all.

"Um well you see..." he started, only to be saved by the approach of the Dean of Medicine.

"Officer Hart," Cuddy greeted, stepping up to the pair. Hart jumped up at once, his old fashioned instincts dictating he stand in the presence of a lady.

"So I assume you found the woman you were looking for...," Cuddy murmured in a secretive tone, her eyes darting to Kutner. Kutner looked away, suddenly finding a CPR instruction poster on the wall exceedingly interesting.

Hart gave a short nod, smiling with obvious relief.

"Yes I did. Thank you for looking out for her, now we just have to wait for Jayden to be discharged so we can go home." Cuddy's eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"You mean he hasn't been cleared yet? He should have been discharged yesterday." At this, Hart threw a suspicious glance at Kutner, who chose that moment to scurry down the hallway with his crushed Coke can.

"I was told we had to wait for a Doctor House to clear him," Hart murmured, rubbing his eyes wearily. This was all too much for him to handle; he really needed to find a new job.

Doctor Cuddy nodded knowingly, an agitated frown tugging at her lips.

"House doing something suspicious and annoying... how shocking," she mumbled, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she flipped through a file in her hands.

"I'll tell you what; I will have a nurse get started on his discharge papers right away. He'll be free to go within the hour."

This earned her a look of pure joy and gratitude from Hart, who said,

"Really? That would be perfect, Doctor Cuddy. Thank you."

Cuddy smiled and gave him a nod before turning and walking away.

----------------------------------------

Alison sat in the chair directly in front of WIlson's desk, the silence between them weighing the air down with tension and anguish. Wilson's mouth kept puttering silently, his lips moving as though he were speaking though no sounds came out. His eyes seemed to dart to every point in the room except Alison's face.

Alison, meanwhile, had her hands laced in her lap, her toes tapping nervously on the floor of Wilson's office. Her eyes danced from the floor to Wilson's face, only to return to the floor again. No one made a sound.

Wilson slowly brought a fist to his mouth, teething his knuckle viciously while his unfocused eyes skittered across his desk. He looked genuinely perplexed and his heavy silence was killing Alison.

They'd been sitting like this for nearly ten minutes, ever since he had stumbled upon her in the alcove and dragged her to his office. Not a word had been spoken since then.

The silence had become too much for her to take and she opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by him whispering,

"Was it all a joke?"  
She stared at him in confusion, not fully understanding.

"What?"  
Wilson pushed up from his desk, pacing the room.

"Your... your death... was it a joke? Because if so it was _not_ funny!"  
At this her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in horror.

"A joke? You think it was a joke?!" He shook his head, pacing back and forth behind his desk.

"Well, what other reason could there be, Cameron? I mean... Gah, do you have any idea what your death did to your team? To your coworkers? And don't even get me started on House..."

"What happened to House?" she whispered, her words filled with panic. Wilson hesitated as he caught sight of the fear in her eyes, deliberating over what to say next.

"He... changed after you died. He just shut down, shut everybody out. I mean sure, he was always antisocial, but after you... after you he just secluded himself completely. He comes to work and then he disappears. He just blocks the world out."

She nodded solemnly, heartbroken and guilty. Never in her wildest dreams would she think that she could have that sort of an affect on House.

"I'm sorry, Wilson... I wish I could explain it."

Wilson just stared, nodding his head.

"I wish you would, too."

The room was once more engulfed in silence, neither willing to speak first. Alison bit her lip nervously, thinking about all that had happened and how she would get out of this when a sudden thought dawned on her.

"How long had you been standing there? When I was on the phone?" Cameron asked nervously, suddenly recalling just what her conversation had been about. Wilson just eyed her knowingly before asking,

"Who's Jayden?"

"Oh. That long."

Cameron's eyes scanned the room, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

"I heard you talk about," Wilson continued, ignoring her nervous demeanor, "Jayden's_ father _and I just... did you have a kid, Cameron?" He studied her intently, his eyes digging into her until she gave beneath the pressure and gave a fast, curt nod. Wilson mulled over this new information, nodding his head slightly in thought.

"It's House, isn't it? The father, I mean." Cameron's jaw dropped at this unexpected revelation and she pushed up from her seat, standing before him.

"How... how did you know?"

Wilson took in a slow, cleansing breath before explaining that House had told him all about their last night together, how House had felt so guilty over letting her leave. How he blamed himself for her death. She just stood there in silence, a look of pain permanently etched across her face.

"But why, Cameron? Why didn't you tell anyone you were alive? Especially House..."

She bit her lip thoughtfully, her eyes darting defensively to the door. This was it. She had to tell him, there was no other way. This wasn't the type of situation she could just talk her way out of. She'd been _dead_ for five years, for goodness sakes, and now she was alive.  
There was no way out of that but with the truth.

"Wilson, I'm going to tell you something, but you have to swear to me to never tell a soul. I'm serious; this is a life or death kind of thing."

"Alright," Wilson said slowly, his eyes locked on hers as he slowly sat back down in his office chair.

"I'm listening."

Alison drummed her fingers on his desk for a moment, preparing herself. After another second of silent staring, she started explaining everything in detail: the day she witnessed the shooting, the trial, the bomb at her apartment. Wilson just sat there in silence, listening as she poured her heart and soul out to him. Tears were streaking down her face as she finally let loose all the emotions and secrets she had been forced to keep hidden inside herself all these years.

It felt amazing to just let go, to finally tell someone exactly what she had been dealing with all these years. At some point during her spiel she had gotten up and started pacing his office, gesturing wildly with her hands and raising her voice as she at last relinquished all the burdens she had been forced to bear.

Finally, as she reached the end of her endless tirade, her words faded into silence and the air was filled with heavy, shaking breathes as she tried to calm herself down, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. She turned her eyes to a shocked Wilson, who simply sat there open-mouthed and too stunned for words.

"....And that about sums up the last five years of my life," she added, averting her eyes to gaze out his window. After a few more moments, Wilson finally contributed with a breathless 'wow'. Alison just laughed, sitting back down in her chair with a sigh.

"Believe me, I know. I lived it."

Wilson stroked his chin thoughtfully, mulling over all that had happened to her, when suddenly a thought struck him.

"Wait a minute, this guy... the shooter guy, what did you say his name was?"

Alison stared at him for a moment before murmuring in a low, nervous voice,

"Medici."

"Medici?" Wilson asked curiously before moving over to his computer. "As in Rick Medici, the mobster guy?"

Alison leaned forward slowly, stunned, before murmuring,

"Yeah... how do you know his name?"  
No one was supposed to know his name. Nothing could ever be pinned on the man, so his name had always managed to stay out of the papers. That was the whole reason she'd gone into the program; that was why she had stayed hidden for all those years. She'd been waiting for the call that said she had to testify before the grand jury, but the call never came. She had assumed the case had just been continually postponed.

How on earth did Wilson know his name?

"I know I've seen that name before, hold on." And with that he started typing away at his computer, Alison just watching nervously. Did Medici get arrested for something? That was the only option that made sense.

"Ah! Here it is; I knew I saw his name in the news before." He twisted his computer monitor around, revealing an internet browser pulled up to a news article. The headline read:

**Suspected Mobster Found Dead, No Leads**

Jaw clenched and hands shaking, Alison skimmed the article, discovering that Medici's body had been found outside a rundown warehouse, shot to death. It was suspected that someone from a rival organization had done the hit, but there were no confirmed leads.

Alison pulled away, shocked.

Medici was dead.

The man, the monster who had forced her into hiding for all these years, wasn't even alive anymore.

"He's... he's dead?"

Her voice was shaking, a mixture of nerves and excitement lacing her words. _He's dead! _The only thing keeping her from her true life was no longer a threat. Did this mean she was free? Certainly Hart would have said something to her about this, if he knew. Maybe he had missed this wonderful revelation because he had been too concerned with their accident.

"When did he die?" she asked softly, trying to control the emotions that rushed through her. Wilson turned the screen back towards him, scrolling up to the top of the screen.

"Let's see... the article was published about three years ago."  
Her heart stopped.

"T-three years ago?"

Wilson nodded, a grim look on his face.

"It seems that you have been hiding from a dead man."

Three years.  
That was more than half the time she had even been in the program. Certainly Hart would have known. Why would he keep something like this from her, something so immensely important? Honestly, wasn't it his job to be up-to-date on this sort of thing?

_Why would he do that to me, to Jayden?_

Wilson turned away then, rummaging through his desk for a notepad.

"I just think-" he started only to stop when he heard his office door slam. He turned back only to find that Alison was already gone.

-----------------------------------------

Hart had just sat down after his chat with Doctor Cuddy when his charge came barreling around the corner, a look of pure rage on her face. His soon matched hers.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he stage whispered, shooting looks around the fairly crowded lobby. "If someone sees you-" his words were cut off, however, when she hissed,

"How could you not tell me about Medici?"

"Who?"

"Rick Medici! Remember? The man who forced me into this program!"

At that he froze, her words finally registering with him. The shocked, guilty expression that now covered his face told her all she needed to know.

He knew.

"What...." he tried, his words fading off. That was literally all he could manage to say.

"He died, Hart! Died. Three years ago." Her words were bitter, angry. All this time, all this fear and isolation, had all been in an effort to hide from a man who hadn't even been alive for the majority of that time.

Hart just frowned somberly, mumbling,

"I know." Alison's jaw dropped.

"You know? What do you mean you know? You mean to tell me that you've known that he was dead, but you never told me?"

"It didn't seem relevant..."

"Relevant?!" She was screaming now, her shouts drawing attention from others in the room as they turned to watch the pair fight. Hart, determined not to cause a scene, grabbed her hand and quickly dragged her out of the front door and into the cold fall air.

Alison just looked at him, shaking her head with a grim expression on her face.

"Five years, William," she said in a low, dangerous voice.

"I have been living under an assumed name for five years! I have been_ forbidden_ to talk to friends, family... Jayden's father doesn't even know that he exists! And... and the entire time I was hiding from a _dead man_?"

Hart started pacing the sidewalk, refusing to meet her eyes.

"No, Alison, you don't understand! Yes, Medici is dead, but we don't know who he hired to kill you! We don't know if the hit is still out there and we don't know if they're still looking for you! We didn't want to risk it. Don't you realize that when you join Witness Protection, you're in it for life?"

She was shaking now, her hands trembling as she violently shook her head, trying to contain her anger.

"You mean to tell me," she seethed, her eyes shooting fire straight at her Marshal, "that I have been hiding for FIVE YEARS because someone _might _be looking for me?"

Hart turned to her, his head tilted slightly, before saying,

"Well, Alison, when you say it like that..." The look in her eyes told him that the screaming was about to start up again, but just before she had the chance the doors flew open and a nurse approached the pair.

"Ms. Carter?" she asked tentatively, noting the flushed and angry looks the two bore. Alison sighed, nodding.

"We apologize for keeping your son for this long. He is officially discharged and can leave the hospital now. Sorry again for the trouble." The nurse, sensing the tension, decided not to wait around for a response and instead slipped back inside. A few moments passed in heavy silence.

"I'll take the two of you to a hotel for the night," Hart said, breaking the silence. Alison said nothing.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll put you guys on a plane and you'll be back home in West Virginia by lunch." He studied her face intently, trying to determine what she was thinking.

But Alison wasn't listening. She just stood there, shaking her head, silently mumbling,

"No, no, no. Not again... not again."

Before he even had time to react she was racing across the parking lot, dashing down the street.

"Alison!" he called, chasing after her. She didn't stop and, despite her injuries, she managed to outrun the hefty man.

"Watch Jayden!" she shouted over her shoulder before disappearing around a corner.

"Alison, wait!" he cried again, his run slowing to a standstill as he stood, hunched over, gasping for breath. He was too old for this.

Alison just ran blindly, ran down old familiar streets, running and running until a certain apartment building came into view just over the horizon. She couldn't stop running, not until she got there.

There was someone she needed to see.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alright guys, this is it  
Next chapter is what you have all been waiting for: the reunion.  
I know I've been a tease, but this time it's for real!  
Pinky swear (:


	12. Chapter 12

_Knock._

_Just do it, you coward!_

_He's right there! Right through this door! Do it!_

Her inner dialogue continued to berate her as she stood there, her forehead resting against the wooden door. He was right there; just a few feet away. All she had to do was knock and she'd see him again.

Why wasn't she doing it? Did she not just run four blocks to get here, battling traffic and sprinting through the parking lot? Had she not been waiting for this moment since the day Alison Cameron died?

Taking a slow, steadying breath, Alison finally got the nerve to knock and rapped on the door. Her heart thudded in her ears, her palms' sweat practically dripping, her breath coming in shuddering intervals. This was the moment; this was the instant where she saw her long lost love. This was it.

She stood there, waiting.  
There was no answer.

_Bugger._

Filled with a surge of courage, she started banging on the door, the sound resonating throughout the apartment hallway. She knew he was here; she saw his bike. If he didn't answer soon—

"Go away," his familiar voice called suddenly from within, and the familiarity of his voice made her freeze. Suddenly everything became real: he was really in there, on the other side of that door. He was real.

"House," she called softly, her head still leaning against the door. There was silence for a moment, then she heard a _soft thump_. Silence.

"House?" she called again, becoming more and more alarmed. Was he ok? Did he fall or something?

After a moment's hesitation she finally got the nerve to open the door.

His apartment was engulfed in darkness. She stood in the doorway for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust until she could make out the table, the couch… the man sitting on it.

"You're late, Cameron," he whispered in the darkness. Her eyes flew open in surprise. That was unexpected. Rage and indignation she could handle, and had even expected, but that? House really was an enigma. But then, how could he not have known she was back? Knowing Wilson, he probably called House the moment she left his office. House probably knew everything. House always knows everything.

"House. I can explain," she murmured as she walked slowly up to him. He turned slightly, smiling at her in the darkness. Alison couldn't help but notice the disarray his apartment had fallen into. Empty bottles and trash seemed to cover every square inch of it, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol.

She watched his silhouette as he patted the seat next to him on the couch, wordlessly instructing her to sit down. After a moment of hesitation, she complied.

Silence reigned as he stared at her in the relative darkness, a slightly crooked smirk decorating his face. A blush was creeping up her skin at the way his eyes were locked on her, and even in the darkness she could sense the force of his eyes on her.

Her hyperawareness of his every movement made her freeze as he started inching towards her and her breath caught as his hand lifted slowly, delicately, before resting on her cheek.

"You're late," he whispered again, and her face was blasted with the powerful scent of alcohol. That was when she realized just how wasted he truly was. Staring at him cautiously, she started to speak again,

"I'm sorry, I just-"

She was cut off by him suddenly grabbing her arm, pulling her onto his lap. She couldn't do anything but gasp as he pulled her to his chest, his arm draped over her shoulders, his head resting on hers.

"I've been wasted for at least an hour. You usually appear faster than that."

Ok, now she was confused. She started to speak up but stopped when he began rubbing gentle circles on her arm, his face nuzzling into her hair. She could barely control her breathing, let alone protest or speak.

"You usually don't let me touch you, Cameron," he slurred, his drunken state now incredibly obvious.

"You usually just stand by me, watching silently as I drink. But it's ok, because I get to see you.

"I think my mind must be getting old, though, because I've never changed your hair color before," he murmured, holding her hair in his hands. She remained silent, still not sure what he was talking about.

"Am I losing my mind then?" his words were slurring as he pulled her further into his arms, running his hands haphazardly over her.

"Has my memory of you faded so much that I can't even remember your hair?"

And then she understood. This wasn't real for him. That distant, glazed look in his eyes as he clung to her told her he was stuck back in long lost years. This moment, her in his lap, his arms around her, was nothing more than a hallucination to him.

"I'm not dead, House," she whispered against him, moving her face up to his.

"Of course not," he replied, not at all convincing. She couldn't stand this, couldn't stand to see the distance and pain in his eyes. The pain her 'death' had caused.

"Really," she insisted, "I'm not dead. I'm in the witness protect-" she was cut off as his lips crashed against hers, powerful and possessive. She couldn't help but respond, pulling him against her and gripping his shirt in her hands.

His kisses traveled down her jaw as he whispered,

"Shh, shhh. You've never let me go this far before. Don't ruin it now by talking."

She was quickly pushed back onto the couch and she could feel his hands slipping their way under her shirt. She shuddered under his touch, enjoying the distantly familiar caress she'd been craving for years. How is it possible for a touch she'd felt only once in her life years ago to be so incredibly familiar?

"House," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He murmured something unintelligible, pushing sloppy kisses across her collarbone. Alison knew this was what she wanted, knew he was what she wanted. This was the life she'd left and she desperately wanted it back.  
Just not like this.

"Stop," she finally managed again, though her ability to hold a coherent thought was quickly fading under his skilled hands.

"Please, stop," she begged in a barely audible whisper, gently trying to push him off her. She wanted to give in so badly, _needed _to give in, but she knew this wasn't right. He needed to know she was really here, not just some drunken hallucination. He deserved that.

Her efforts to stop him, however, were cut short in an instant when he quickly grabbed her wrists, pinning them beside her head. She opened her mouth to protest only to have it covered by his, and her protest died off into a low rasping moan.

Her fight disappeared as their clothes were shed.

--------------------------------------

The lab results were in.

The team all stood around in anticipation, awaiting the outcome of their bets. They stared at the paper that contained the answer, none making a move, until Thirteen finally sighed and grabbed it up, quickly skimming the results.

She barely glanced at Cop Face's results, not at all surprised to see that he was .021% likely to be the father. That's a big negative. Her eyes instead glided down to House's results, only to freeze.

51.986%  
POS

Thirteen stood there, a look of pure shock on her face. Taub watched her expression and grinned triumphantly, mumbling,

"I was right, wasn't I?" Thirteen opened her mouth, but closed it again, unable to find the words.

"It's… positive," she finally managed, looking up at them with shock still in her eyes. Kutner laughed, saying,

"So we were right! We win the bet!" Thirteen shook her head, still struggling to form words.

"No, guys. It's not positive for the agent." She tossed the paper to them, shaking her head.

"It's positive for House. He's the father."

--------------------------

House woke up on his living room floor.  
_Typical,_ he thought to himself as he attempted to stretch his aching limbs. Was it sad that waking up naked on the living room floor was a regular occurrence in his life?

He just sighed again, before rolling to his left to get more comfortable—and nearly rolling on top of the body lying beside him. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her: tussled blonde hair, porcelain skin. A shapely backside that just barely peaked out from beneath the couch's blanket.

_That's certainly new._

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the night before.

It had started out typical, at least, as he had drunken himself into a stupor in hopes of reaching that euphoric state.  
That state where he saw her.  
And he had reached it, he recalled. He remembered seeing her, right?  
Or was that her?

He remembered blonde hair, someone talking. She looked so much like her…  
_Almost-Cameron._

That's when it hit him. He stared down at the blonde hair, the somewhat familiar curves. The woman next to him wasn't Cameron; it was Almost-Cameron. His patient's mother.  
_Perfect. _

How had he managed to sleep with his patient's mother? Sure, he knew he could be a bit crazy when drunk, but really? Clearly things were out of control. Focusing once more, he fought to remember just what happened.

She had said something, but he hadn't been listening. How had she known where he lived? He remembered grabbing her, clinging to her. Pushing her down roughly. Whimpering, she kept whimpering. He remembered her pushing back, struggling against his lecherous hands.

_House, stop. Please stop._

Oh no.  
His hand flew to his mouth and he felt the urge to gag, staring at the body in horror.  
Had he… no, he couldn't have!  
_Had he forced himself on the poor girl?_

Burying his face in his hands, he fought to control his frantic breathing. This was it. He'd finally done it; his addiction had finally pushed him too far. This was just… this was his _patient's_ mother! This would be the end of the road for House. He'd go to jail, lose his license, his—

His self-deprecating thoughts faded as the body shifted in sleep, turning to face him with a soft sigh. Her peaceful face was fully revealed to him for the first time, her hair framing her face as she slept on, unaware of his horrified eyes.

He just sat there for what felt like centuries, staring down at her with a gaping mouth. He couldn't believe it.  
It was Cameron.  
Not a hallucination, not an Almost. It was real. _She_ was real.  
He just stared at her sleeping form, shaking his head.  
How the_ hell_?

He contemplated waking her up, whether to scream at her or kiss her, but it turned out he didn't need to, as she was already starting to stir. House sat in silence, watching as she slowly woke up.

-----------------------------

Alison slowly felt herself drifting back into consciousness. She shifted slightly, noticing with annoyance that she was on some floor. Her back ached from the uncomfortable sleeping place, and she let out an agitated groan as she started to pull herself up.

"So it's not every day I wake up next to a dead girl," a voice clipped suddenly, piercing her early morning haze. She slowly glanced up, peeking through her cascading hair at the familiar man who now sat perched on the edge of his seat, his elbows resting on his knees and his face in his hands.

"Does this make me a necrophiliac?"

He stared at her with cold, angry eyes.

"House," she whispered, sitting up completely. His anger disappeared for a moment as his eyes dropped, and she quickly realized that the blanket wrapped around her had fallen and exposed her bare chest to him. He smirked as she flushed, yanking the blanket around her quickly, earning herself an eye roll.

"Nothing I haven't seen before." He pulled himself up with an exhausted groan, limping towards his kitchen with an aged slowness that Alison had never seen in him before. Had he really aged so much in these past few years?

"House, I can explain," she starts slowly, following him with her eyes. She hears his sarcastic bark of a laugh from his place within the kitchen.

"Explain, huh? Explain what? Explain how you go from being nothing more than a drunken hallucination to a living, breathing, _blonde _person!? No thanks, not interested." He couldn't even fathom this. She's alive? How? After all this, after everything…

She sighed, taking a slow and careful breath.

"Please, House, I need to tell you… I … I need you to know."

There was silence for a moment and she could hear him moving around the kitchen, slamming things. Finally he paused, and she could faintly hear him sigh. She turned to see him shuffling back from the kitchen before sitting down on the couch beside her, as far away from her as physically possible.

"Fine. This better be one hell of an explanation."

Taking that as acquiescence, Alison quickly told him about the day after, the day her apartment was destroyed. The day their lives were destroyed. House didn't say a word; he just stood silently in the kitchen as she retold the horrors of losing her identity, of having to start over. She hesitated, however, before mentioning Jayden. How does one tell someone that they actually have a four year old son?

Just as she started to gather the courage to tell him about his little boy, House appeared from within the kitchen, a confused expression marring his features.

"Why are you here now, then? If this gangster is still after you-"

"He's not," she cut off, rubbing her eyes wearily. House watched her for a moment before asking,

"Why is that?" This forced her to pause, however, as she prepared to deliver this blow.

"He's dead."

Silence.  
A few moments passed.

"Dead?" She nodded. "How long?"

"Three years…" He laughed bitterly at that, shaking his head in near disgust as he started pacing the room, refusing to meet her eyes.

"So you've been in this program for all these years when you didn't even need to be?" He sounded so angry, truly angry at her for being gone so long. How dare she leave him like that? Alison took in a shuddering breath, saying,

"My… marshal decided that it was necessary for me to stay in the program even with him dead. Hart never even told me about his death."

House stared at her, horrified.

"How did you go three years without knowing he was dead? Did you never think to look him up?"

She shook her head, holding her hands out in vague gestures in an effort to show what she's trying to say.

"I just… House, I was so afraid, you don't even know. I mean… just the thought of that man was enough to…" she paused, shivering at the thought. "I barely had the courage to think about the man, let alone look him up on the internet. Gah, if I'd only had a little courage…"

Tears started slowly sliding from her eyes, and House watched her uncomfortably before slowly, awkwardly reaching a hand out to rest on her shoulder. It was a forced gesture, but Alison still took comfort in it. She had to fight her instinct to lean into his touch, though she couldn't stop the soft sigh from escaping her lips. She had missed him.

After a few moments he pulled away, staring down at her. Things were finally working out. Everything was, in its own twisted way, starting to make sense. So she was in the program, gone in some other state. And she came back here because…

And then he froze as something even more terrifying hit him:

This was Cameron, yes, but she was also Almost-Cameron.  
She was his patient's _mother_.

"Cameron...," he whispered, a rush of thoughts hitting him. "Did you get pregnant?"  
She was silent for what felt like ages, her eyes looking everywhere but him.

"I," she paused as her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, "I don't expect anything from you, financially speaking. I raised Jayden by myself for the last 5 years; I can certainly handle him alone. I'm not going to try and trap you or anything like that…."

She tried to keep the shakes from her voice, failing miserably, and House just watched her with a wounded expression before raking his hands over his eyes with a slow, agonized sigh.

"I can't _be_ a dad, Cameron," he whispered. "I can't… I can't be that guy. The family man."

Cameron closed her eyes slowly, painfully, trying to calm her erratic breathing.

"I'm not going to force you to be in his life, House," she paused before adding in a whisper, "Or mine."

His eyes shot up then, his horrified expression locked onto her sad, closed eyes. Not be a part of her life? Did she not realize that after she… that after _her_ he had no life? Her memory _became_ his life. Every movement she'd ever made, every word she'd ever spoken had consumed him, had motivated him. Everything he had done had been in the pursuit of her memory.

Did she not understand that the day she died she became his life?

"No," he shouted suddenly, and her eyes jerked open in surprise.

"No?"

"Do you really think I'm just going to let you walk out of my life, after all this?" he was almost yelling at her now, glaring down at her predatorily. Her mouth did a quick fish-out-of-water impression as she sputtered wordlessly at him, her eyes wide in surprise.

"I… I…"

He moved to her on the couch, turning his attention to her fully.

"I want you in my life," he declared slowly, his eyes locked on her. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks and she had to focus to form rational thoughts. The old Alison, the one that had shown up at this very same apartment all those years ago, would have melted instantly and swooned all over him.

But that Alison didn't exist anymore.

Instead, she had to focus on what had become the most important thing in her life: her son.

"What about Jayden?"

House leaned back slowly, staring at her.

"What about him?"

"This is a package deal, House. If you want me, you've got to want him, too." She stared at him steadily, the tears evident in her eyes. He watched her, a slight look of annoyance dashing across his eyes.

"I… I care about you so much, House, but… if I have to choose between you or my son, don't… don't think I'm going to choose you." Her voice shook terribly as she spoke, her heart literally breaking with the words. She loved House. Desperately. She'd always loved him and, in all truth, probably always would. But her son always came first, even before her own feelings.

He turned away from her then, leaning back on the couch with a thoughtful expression. She watched him silently for a few minutes, watched as the gears obviously moved behind his eyes as he contemplated everything he'd just discovered. After ages of silence, he spoke.

"So," he murmured slowly, glancing at her. "Jayden, huh?"  
She nodded, her eyes locked on his.

"Gregory Jayden," she whispered back. He grunted softly in acknowledgement before averting his eyes and clearing his throat.

"I can live with that."

She smiled.  
He offered her a weak smirk and they sat in a comfortable silence.

Glancing at the clock, she noticed just how late it already was. She needed to go check on Jayden and Hart.

"Well, um. Now that that is settled…" she started after a few minutes, slowly standing up. Now seemed like an appropriate time to go back to the hospital. She was fairly certain House had reached his quota for socializing and revelations for the day.

As she started to move past him, however, a cane shot up suddenly, blocking her path, and House glared at her in annoyance.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, almost angrily. His deep stare locked onto hers and she felt her coherency fading fast. Alison stared at him with wide-eyes, that familiar look of intensity stirring up old feelings. She fumbled saying,

"I was gonna.. um… I mean… Jayden…" How did this man have the power to make her stumble like a moron? Just one look into his eyes and she lost her ability to form basic sentences.

"The kid can wait an hour," he announced, pulling her back to the couch and moving over to her cautiously. She watched, frozen, as he leaned in, his lips barely grazing hers. The whimper that escaped at his gentle touch broke the silence and she quickly reciprocated, opening her mouth to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. In an instant he had her beneath him on the couch, his lips attached to her throat as she gasped breathlessly.

"Or three," he finished, pulling once more at her shirt.

------------------------------------------

The man had never held much stock in fate.

Life wasn't a predestined thing; you made your own destiny. Considering the career path he'd chosen, he saw personally that fate was a myth. Really, was he fated to kill people? And what of the people, were they simply fated to die? It was all very sketchy, this fate business.

Still, even a skeptic like himself had to see that being here, at this hospital, that day, was fate.

It had been five years since he'd been commissioned to kill Doctor Alison Cameron. Five years of searching and searching, only to come up empty-handed. He had almost given up, really. It killed him to admit it, as he was very controlling, but sometimes things just get out of hand. She escaped from him, and that was that.

Or he thought it was, at least, until she came walking right back into his life. It truly had to be fate that brought him to this hospital, _her_ hospital, that day. He'd been monitoring it continually over the years, checking the news and watching the staff, just in case she decided to reappear.

He always doubted she would, of course. She was a doctor, so he assumed she'd be smart enough to know that she could never return to this life, not when there was a hit out on her.

Clearly he was wrong. She'd waltzed right into the lobby, bruised and bloody, and he'd made her instantly. She tried to change her appearance, he could tell, as her hair was a different color and she wore disguising clothes.

But he knew. Oh, did he know. He knew her; he'd memorized her picture years ago. Every morning, every night, he would stare at her picture, memorizing her.

The one that got away.

The unfinished job.

It had haunted him these last few years, torn at him. He could have killed her that night, so long ago, but he'd been young then. Foolish. He'd fallen for her beauty and let her get away. Medici had been furious, had blamed him for it.

Medici was right, of course. It had been his fault, he'd let her escape, but he had always despised being spoken down to.

That's why he'd killed him, right then. Two to the heart, one to the head. Very militaristic, very neat, just the way the man liked it. He'd dumped the body in a gutter by the trash, right where it belonged.

He thought killing Medici would give him some closure, some finality. It hadn't. Even after his death he saw her face, saw her in his dreams. He wanted to retire, wanted to leave with the millions he'd earned over his years as a gun-for-hire, but no matter where he went and no matter what he did she was always there, like a shadow over him.

That was why he had stayed in Princeton. That is why he had visited the teaching hospital religiously, always lurking around the lobby.

That was why he had been there that day when she'd come in, a long ago memory come back to life, racing back to allow him the sweet relief of a finished job.

Maybe there really was something to this fate thing.

-----------------------------------------------------------

A/N Sorry for the late-ness.  
Life has been… distracting.  
It's a touch longer than usual, though, which is my way of sucking up (:

Sorry if the style seems inconsistent between the sections. I wrote the first scene and the assassin scene a long time ago, back when I first started working on this story, so this chapter wasn't written all in one sitting.


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